


Honey Pot

by airedis



Category: N.Flying (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Summer Love, Winter love, autumn love, jaehyun and hweseung appear in the fic just fyi, lots of love. and pining, love through the seasons, spring love, they're just not the main focus so i didn't tag them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-08-13 14:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airedis/pseuds/airedis
Summary: There's a garden blooming inside them.





	1. Delphinium elatum, Zinnia elegans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo
> 
> there's some inaccuracies here like just pretend the fridge is in the kitchen and stuff. let's roll with it.
> 
> (this fic is finished already just fyi - it'll be updated once a week)

Hun likes to pretend that he’s not cute. They’ve all seen it more times than they can count: Hun decries aegyo and pitches a fit and staunchly refuses to do it half the time; but he doesn’t seem to realize how cute he is when he’s bouncing off the walls with Jaehyun or asking Hweseung for advice on pajamas or snuggling up to lay his head on their shoulders. Well, if he hasn’t noticed, then Seunghyub isn’t going to be the one to tell him. 

-

It’s not like Seunghyub watches him all the time, but he’s picked up on Hun’s peculiarities over the years. He can say the same for Hweseung and Jaehyun too - he can tell when Hweseung is going to leave the dorm late at night to go for a run or when Jaehyun’s slipping into one of his moods where he just needs to be left alone to lock himself in his room and shoot away in some game.

So, really, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Seunghyub knows Hun’s habits so well after all the time they’ve spent together. What _ is _ a surprise is the sheer number of things he picks up on before his brain even has a chance to catch up. Like when Hun cooks jjampong the nights that he takes a long bath or how he chews on his pick when he’s concentrating.

Those are normal things to notice. Acceptable.

But Seunghyub knows he has no business knowing that Hun chooses to watch animated movies when he’s feeling particularly cuddly, which hoodie he wears when he’s getting sick and is viciously pretending he’s not, or that Hun cries when he’s homesick and looking at pictures of his cats. And he absolutely has no right knowing that Hun lets the nails on his right hand grow out when he hasn’t jacked off in too long.

But some things are unavoidable when you live and work together as closely as they all do. Seunghyub tells himself this and ignores the niggling thought that insists he just pays more attention to Hun than anything else.

-

His bangs are wet, sticky and tangled as he runs his fingers through them to push the hair away from his face. Seunghyub grimaces, wiping his hand on his equally sweaty and disgusting shirt. He should have brought a hat or something. Sitting up on the bench, Seunghyub grabs a towel and scrubs his face, chugs down some water to ease the burn in his lungs. Even with the air blasting through the gym, an oppressive air of summer heat continues to permeate the atmosphere. He’s not looking forward to walking back to the dorm.

Seunghyub stands and makes his way to the bathroom, weighing the pros and cons of showering now or after he gets back and is inevitably drenched in sweat again. He can smell the sour tang of sweat radiating off his person and decides, for the benefit of society, to shower before heading back. He’ll probably have to rinse off a second time at the dorm, but at least he won’t be doubly disgusting.

He turns the shower on as warm as he can stand, which ends up being a mild and disappointing lukewarm, but it’s too damn hot to boil himself in steam no matter how good it may feel on his muscles. Seunghyub figures his skin will thank him for abstaining.

Still feeling tacky with sweat as he dries off and changes, Seunghyub mentally maps out what shops are on his route home. It’s so damn hot. He could go for something to cool himself down. He deserves it. Deciding it’s worth it – and promising himself to get rid of the incriminating evidence before he gets back – Seunghyub stops by a convenience store on his way, leisurely eating an ice cream even as it promisingly threatens to drip all over his hands.

He’s licking the last errant stream of melted vanilla off the back of his hand as he fishes his keys out of his pocket. Seunghyub shifts, shouldering his gym bag as he opens the door and wipes his hand on his shorts. His shower damp hair feels limp and gross around his head, helped none at all by the rush of stale air that greets him as he pushes the door open. He drops his bag, toes off his shoes, and tells himself he’ll get it later. When he walks through the front room, he’s greeted by the quiet drone of muted TV programming. Surprisingly, Hun is in the living room, watching some drama – which is to say, he’s on his phone as a drama plays on the television in the background, completely ignored. He glances up as Seunghyub walks in.

“Welcome back,” he intones absentmindedly, eyes already back on the screen in his hands.

Hun’s knees are pulled up, his chin resting on them, phone held out lazily in front of him, bare feet sunk into the couch cushions. He’s wearing a loose pair of shorts that have slipped up his legs, exposing a ridiculous and almost obscene expanse of pale thigh.

Hun doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Ah,“ Seunghyub grunts, finally coming back to himself. “Yeah. I’m back.“

Dragging his eyes away from the lazy boy on the couch, Seunghyub trudges into the bathroom for another quick rinse. Even with tepid water, a light misting of steam starts to fog up the mirror. Seunghyub stares blankly at the wall, water sluggishly drenching the top of his head and blurring his vision. He drifts, the half formed melody of an unfinished song looping in his head, falling offbeat with the dull patter of water.

The day replays in his head, jumbled images flashing to the forefront of his mind before they slip away again, lost. He thinks of Hun sitting on the couch with his thin legs and sleepy eyes. The water hits Seunghyub’s neck, pounding into his shoulders in a steady, numbing drone that leaves his skin tingling. His arms hang, limp at his sides, as the tiles blur out of focus in front of him.

Hun’s bangs had been all over the place, falling like a shredded curtain in front of his eyes. He had been biting his lip, trapping it between his sharp canines the way he did when he didn’t have a pick around. Seunghyub breathes, feels the water run down his chest. It had gotten so hot lately, the full rush of summer hitting the city in a sickening wave of humidity. Hun’s shorts were thin, the fabric soft and malleable and bunching around the tops of his thighs. They were so open Seunghyub could almost see up to his hips, the full length of his pale, pale legs out there for the whole world to see.

But there is only Seunghyub.

He shifts, head hanging, and becomes distinctly aware of the growing problem between his legs. Seunghyub shivers, just for a second, and then turns the water as cold as he can stand. He doesn’t stay in the shower for long after that.

-

There are a lot of disadvantages to living in a dorm with three other guys, especially when you’re in your twenties. They’re loud, messy, irritable after a long, busy day. Jaehyun leaves his socks everywhere and Hweseung never does the dishes on time. Seunghyub knows he is personally responsible for the ever-increasing mess of shoes in the entrance and Hun is completely incapable of remembering when to take out the trash. There are benefits, of course, to having built-in friends and knowing there’s always someone around to share a joke with, but the complete and utter lack of privacy is a fatal balance, tipping the scales into the territory of being frustrating and overwhelming far more often when they’re sick with exhaustion and going stir crazy with the need to be alone in their own skin for once.

Hot weather makes this worse, knowing there are all these bodies in the dorm producing the heat that sticks to Seunghyub’s skin at night when he’s trying to sleep, kept awake by the mini inferno that is their apartment. He’s grumpy when he wakes, bleary-eyed and scowling, because he slept like shit and there are loud voices from the living room that pulled him from dozing, too present for Seunghyub to block out.

Light streams in through the open window, leaking into Seunghyub’s eyes and gathering in the corners, pooling there like dew. He huffs, turning over fruitlessly before kicking at his pile of sheets and getting out of bed. Hoping for a small bit of decency, he pulls on a tank and a flimsy pair of shorts, uncomfortable at the heat it traps against his skin, for all the tiny bit of airy fabric it is.

Seunghyub resolves to go stick his head in the freezer. Maybe he’ll smother the voices with pillows first.

The TV is on once more, this time streaming some video as Hun and Jaehyun talk noisily over it, playing along with whatever strange guessing game the host is doing. They’re matched ridiculously, wearing thin sleep shirts and nothing more than boxer briefs to cover them. Seunghyub does an about face, instead heading into the kitchen to wake up before he tries to deal with anything.

As he makes coffee, their laughter tells him they’ve been at this for a while. The clock on the microwave shows it’s midday and Seunghyub feels a surge of annoyance that, despite the time and for all the hours he spent in bed, he couldn’t actually get any sleep out of it. Grabbing his coffee and a tub of watermelon slices out of the refrigerator, Seunghyub flops onto the couch with all the will of a man about to die.

“Good morning, hyung,“ Jaehyun chirps, looking for all the world like he’s never been bothered by anything a day in his life.

“Morning,“ Hun chimes next to him.

Seunghyub refrains from blowing bubbles in his coffee. He’s not a petulant child - and he doesn’t want to burn his nose, besides. He grunts an answer, pushing the tub of watermelon between them when Jaehyun starts making grabby hands. The combination of coffee and watermelon is disgusting but Seunghyub is too far gone in his heat induced misery to particularly care.

“Where’s the fan remote?“ He asks instead, eyes sweeping around the room.

Jaehyun digs through the couch cushions, watermelon juice dripping down his other hand, and tosses the remote at Seunghyub’s lap. He misses and the remote bounces off the couch and onto the floor. Seunghyub grabs it and flicks the fan on, sighing at the immediate wave of cool air that blows against his bare skin. Soon, it’ll only be pushing around recycled, warm air but he’ll take what he can get.

“Yah, aren’t you two hot?“ He demands after a moment.

“It’s not that bad, hyung.“ Hun answers. Then he turns to face Seunghyub. “Maybe you’re just weak.“

His grin is wide and playful, and it tells Seunghyub that he’s going to be up to no good all day. Seunghyub shoves a hand in his face and sinks down into the couch.

He does his best to ignore their current state of mild undress. He’s not bothered by nudity or anything – he’d be a hypocrite if he was – but he can see more of Hun’s legs than last night and it’s a little disconcerting.

Distracting.

Hun’s legs are on full display, folded up in front of him as if he had not a care in the world who sees. Seunghyub stubbornly does not notice his underwear or the way that the red band disappears under Hun’s shirt and peeks out when he moves. Through sheer willpower alone, Seunghyub keeps his eyes trained ahead on the television and absolutely nowhere else.

In spite of the coffee and any other possible distractions , Seunghyub starts to drift off, stuck in that weird place between wakefulness and sleep, where he’s partway conscious of everything in a muddled, confused sort of way. At some point, Jaehyun and Hun must switch to watching Let’s Plays, because the next thing Seunghyub knows, he’s jolting awake to the sound of rapid gunfire and overenthusiastic screeching.

His head snaps up, a cheerful crick in his neck immediately letting him know that he’d slept on it funny. Two heads turn to look at him before Jaehyun and Hun turn toward each other and start laughing about something or other. He’ll never understand their conjoined twins act but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little envious of it.

Heart pumping from having been startled awake, Seunghyub scrubs at his face, dragging a hand through sleep wild hair as he settles into some semblance of normal awake human behavior. It doesn’t take long for Jaehyun’s and Hun’s attitudes to seep into him, infecting him with their mischievousness. He nudges Hun with his shoulder, bumping into him in time with one of their songs. Hun aims a fake glare at him and bump him back. Seunghyub smiles to himself and ignores the way their skin sticks together like glue, joined at the shoulder in a move that may be permanent. Oh well.

He listens to Hun and Jaehyun chat idly, feeling lazy and fond. The hour stretches on as they cycle through videos at random. And then, as they always do, Hun and Jaehyun get weird.

Hun’s leg burns when it presses against Seunghyub’s, his skin alight with fire when he shifts on the couch, leaning away from Jaehyun’s tickling fingers. He smacks Jaehyun with a stray pillow, involving himself in the battle. Jaehyun attempts to jump on Hun and, rather than coming to his rescue, Seunghyub switches sides and turns in his spot, drags Hun against his chest, holding him there to allow Jaehyun’s onslaught to continue. Hun shrieks and kicks, head tossing as Seunghyub laughs in his ear. When he finally breaks free, he crawls under the coffee table and sulks, lured out only by the threat of more tickling and the promise of snacks.

After they’re all settled again, Seunghyub remembers his unfinished coffee. It sits cold on the table, forgotten and sad. Dejected, he reaches for the watermelon tub, only for Jaehyun to snatch it and drain the juice from it, flashing him a cheeky grin. Snagging the pillow once more, Seunghyub decides that Jaehyun will be the one smothered first, wrestling him back into the couch with an unearthly scream, pillow flying. Hun’s laughter spurs him on, unaware that he’ll be next.

-

It is far too hot for cuddling but that won’t stop Seunghyub from fulfilling his heart’s desire. No, the only thing that ever possibly could do that is the lack of willing participants in his immediate cuddling vicinity. He’s been refuted by Hweseung three times already and Jaehyun is nowhere to be found. Seunghyub is sweatily lamenting his sad fate when Hun emerges from upstairs. His true purpose may ultimately be to ask about dinner but it’s his fault for entering Seunghyub’s room when Seunghyub is feeling needy. (Seunghyub has these moods often enough that Hun really should know better by now. He could have avoided all of it if he really wanted to.)

Seunghyub accosts him, pulling him onto the bed so enthusiastically that Hun bounces once before flopping down like a dead fish. He takes the opportunity to trap Hun before he can move, wrapping all of his limbs around him like some sort of large, human shaped octopus. Hun attempts an escape, wiggling around as if his weak protests could ever possibly break the unyielding force that is Seunghyub’s love. Plus, Seunghyub is stronger, not to mention bigger than Hun so, really, Hun never stood a chance and shouldn’t have bothered wasting his time.

After enough time had passed that he could reasonably argue he did everything he could to get away, Hun deflates with a sigh. Not taking any chances, Seunghyub pulls him in closer. Just in case.

“It’s too hot for this, hyung,“ Hun complains nasally.

“Put up with it for now,“ Seunghyub says, burying his face in Hun’s shoulder.

He’s too bony, it’s not particularly comfortable, but Seunghyub will be damned if he’s giving up. Snagging Hun for a snuggle session and actually being able to keep him there is a rare and blessed treat, and Seunghyub is going to treat it like the gift it is.

Hun lets his head fall back fully against Seunghyub’s pillow, shifting around to get comfortable as he settles in, and Seunghyub wants to squeeze him until he pops. It’s probably for the best that Hun can’t see his smile but somehow he knows anyway. He can probably feel it.

“What are you so happy about?” Hun grumbles.

Seunghyub resists the extreme temptation to blow a raspberry into his neck.

“My favorite stray cat came back,” he answers instead.

Hun meows, gravelly and not cute at all, but he brings his hands up like little paws so Seunghyub squeezes him again. He never bothered turning his light on earlier so the room is dim, filtered bluish and soft on the white walls. There are cars outside, the rumble of the washing machine sounding off in another room, the faint, even sound of Hun breathing. Their legs are tangled together, skin sticky with dried sweat and it should be gross. It kind of is, but it’s nice too.

Seunghyub lets his eyes slip closed, relaxing, melting into the bed, anchored by Hun solid in his arms.

“What do you want for dinner?“ Hun asks eventually, voice slow and jumbled like he’s on the edge of sleep.

“You,“ Seunghyub jokes, sinking his teeth into Hun’s his bare shoulder.

And it’s a triumph on its own because he never gets to do this to Hun. His skin is warm and salty and Seunghyub wants to bite down harder, to feel the bone crunch between his teeth. There’s a faint shine of saliva left behind as Seunghyub pulls away. He looks at Hun and is met with wide, offended eyes and a mouth pulled open in surprised horror.

He laughs as Hun cries, “ah, hyung!” in distress and hits Seunghyub’s chest with fists not intended to actually hurt.

Hun is still sneering in mock disgust, lip pulled up like a snarling animal as Seunghyub wipes his shoulder off for him. Seunghyub just laughs and buries his nose in Hun’s neck.

It doesn’t take long before Hun is blinking, eyes fighting to stay open. Seunghyub is talking, voice low, quiet, deep, rumbling up from his chest and out into the room. Hun mostly listens, eyes eventually slipping shut completely, nodding slowly as Seunghyub talks. The room is sweltering, the air falling over them like a heavy blanket, pinning them down into the mattress. Hun falls asleep against him, turning over in his arms, mouth open and pushing quiet, raspy breaths against Seunghyub’s face.

The light is low, the room nearly dark, and Seunghyub can hardly see, but still he takes in the way Hun’s eyelashes fall across his cheeks, his mouth soft in sleep, the way he buries his nose into the blankets like a cat. One of his hands is pressed up against Seunghyub’s torso, his fingertips resting against the dip where his ribs come apart. Sweat shines at his hairline, across his brow, in the curve of his neck.

Seunghyub should open the window, bring in a fan, push open the doors, anything to let the heat out.

But he won’t.

He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to do anything that might wake the sleeping form still cradled in his arms. Besides, he kind of likes the heat like this, digging its way underneath his skin and pressing down on him until all his bones are liquefied jelly inside of him. He likes it all if it means that he can keep holding onto Hun, even when his own face is melting from the heat pulsing from between Hun’s lips directly onto his cheeks.

Hweseung finds them, stumbling in and flipping on the light switch when all the daylight has nearly faded from the sky. Seunghyub squints at him, eyes adjusting poorly to the sudden assault.

“We’re getting hungry,” Hweseung complains, meaning that _ he _was getting hungry. “When’s Hun hyung making dinner?“

Hun grunts, turning over further and burying his face into the pillow.

“He’ll be up in a minute,“ Seunghyub answers for him.

Hweseung nods, stepping out and sliding the door shut behind him. Somewhere in the dorm, a shout that sounds like Jaehyun rings out. Seunghyub smooths back Hun’s his hair and shakes him awake.

-

The dorm is empty and Seunghyub is bored out of his mind. Hun and Jaehyun are off somewhere, probably filming a video, and Hweseung is out, most likely recording a new cover. With nothing to distract him and no desire to sit around doing nothing, Seunghyub decides to go into the studio to work on something, anything.

He tinkers around with some old sound files, eventually starts a broadcast and talks to fans just to have something to do. It’s nice, passing the time chatting and showing off demo versions of songs that would otherwise never see the light of day. He never feels like he has to perform during solo broadcasts, able to just follow whatever thread catches, unraveling it and spinning it into an experience to share.

There’s something centering about the calm, measured rhythm of his lives. They leave him feeling collected, his thoughts gathered and organized, filed away in a way that mimics songwriting or composing. It’s almost like a public diary, his own little corner of the world to comfort himself and others, to bring a sense of context to the frenetic chaos of touring, recording, filming, nonstop, go go go.

The studio feels more like a home than the dorm does these days. It’s a place where he can get the parts that rush through his head like rapids out, transformed into chords and keys, put into place nice and neat between the lines of a staff. Not that the dorm, his room, isn’t its own type of peace; there’s a certain comfort and stability in the knowledge that his bed is always going to be there to sleep in at night. After years of uncertainty, it’s nice to have something tangible to hang onto. They won’t be grasping at dreams anymore.

Camera shut off, Seunghyub leans back in his chair, spins around and stares at the ceiling tiles blurring above him. He feels like static, brain fuzzy and nerves pinging under his skin. If he wants to get rid of it and feel settled in his own skin he should go work out, run off some of the energy that seems to be ricocheting through his body. But he doesn’t feel like moving. He doesn’t feel like getting up or walking out of the building or even particularly lifting his head up. So he doesn’t.

Casting around to find something actually appealing to do, Seunghyub’s eyes land on the piano. He pushes over to it, wheels clacking as he rolls across the floor. The static in his brain cuts out as his fingers splay across the keys, quieting to an almost silent, numbing buzz.

Seunghyub plays.

He cycles through a repertoire of years worth of songs, some familiar, some half forgotten, some almost entirely made up. Seunghyub plays songs that the band practices together for hours on end, songs that he’s written for them that he hasn’t gotten around to showing them yet. His fingers spread across the keys, pulling melodies out of his head, out of thin air. Music is a type of magic, he thinks, telling a story without words. He’ll fill in the words later, with messy pen strokes or the tick of the keyboard.

Seunghyub gets lost, eyes closed, aware of nothing but the keys under his fingertips. He comes back to the ground, back to himself, when his phone buzzes on the desk, irritated at being ignored and forgotten. It vibrates violently as he receives messages rapidfire asking his whereabouts and telling him to get back to the dorm. He locks up quickly, makes the trip back to the dorm in a weird mood after being pulled out of his head so suddenly, feeling untethered.

The others are riled up when he arrives, excited by something or other like a bunch of baby chicks. Seunghyub is given a raucous greeting when he walks through the door. Hun catches on first; his grin faltering when he sees Seunghyub’s face. For his part, Seunghyub doesn’t do much by way of returning their energy, save for raising a hand in greeting. This seems to give them all pause because Seunghyub isn’t even to his room before Hweseung is carefully asking, “you okay?”.

Seunghyub grunts in response and catches Hweseung sharing a shrug with Jaehyung out of the corner of his eye. He’ll make it up to them later.

It’s sometime later when there’s a knock at his door. He pulls out one of his earphones, calling out, “yeah?“ by way of greeting.

Hun’s voice is muffled as he says, “I brought you some food.“

“Come in.“

Seunghyub sits up, settling against the wall instead of the pillow, phone temporarily discarded on the sheets as Hun walks in. He has a steaming bowl of kimchi jjigae in his hands, his posture cautious as he waits near the door.

“I brought dinner, if you want some,“ he says, not quite meeting Seunghyub’s eyes directly.

Seunghyub flexes his fingers and waves him over. Hun’s shoulders relax as he drops onto Seunghyub’s bed and shoves the bowl into Seunghyub’s waiting hands with an easy smile. He doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t try to fix anything he wasn’t asked to, just talks and lets Seunghyub eat.

“Thanks, Hunnie,“ Seunghyub says, eyes soft, sincere.

Hun’s bright smile is all the response he needs.

-

Hun and Jaehyun's birthdays are a joint celebration. They don't have much time to do anything, their schedules too busy, too hectic, but Seunghyub and Hweseung surprise them with a cake that gets shoved into Jaehyun's face almost immediately, singing happy birthday at the stroke of midnight.

They get into a bit of a cake fight and end up covered in sticky sugar after an already sweaty practice, so it's mostly kind of completely gross but, really, it's the thought that counts.

In honor of their birthdays, Hun and Jaehyun get to shower first, the icing drying on Seunghyub's skin as he waits for his turn. He's wiped as much frosting off himself as he can but there's still streaks of it crusting in his hair. The fan is on, pushing around moderately cool air, humming quietly. It makes his skin feel kind of tight, the icing cracking, but it's not an oven, so it's a trade Seunghyub's willing to make.

He's sitting on his bed, doors open, when Hun finds him, hair damp and cheeks tinged pink after his shower, soft in his sleep shirt.

Seunghyub has a little gift for each other them that he'd planned to give in the morning, on Hun's birthday proper, but he pulls it out now instead.

"Happy birthday, Hun-ah," he says, dropping the gift into Hun's outstretched hand.

It's a disgusting little key chain of a bread cat, something slightly hideous that Seunghyub had gotten out of a convenience store gacha machine last time they were in Japan.

But Hun sees its ugly plastic face and his heart grows three sizes that day, a genuine smile of elation crinkling his eyes and scrunching up his face. He laughs, loud and obnoxious, and thanks Seunghyub, delight still rippling in his throat, making his voice thick with mirth. Hun pockets the key chain when he leaves and Seunghyub spies it hanging from his airpod case the next day as they're stuffed into the van.

He pretends it's not the reason for his good mood but he's never been particularly good at lying to himself.

-

For lack of anything more pressing to do, they end up having a sort of impromptu movie night. There’s a plethora of snacks spread out before them that their manager is turning a blind eye to, choosing to let them self-regulate and holing up in his room instead and leaving them to their antics. Seunghyub and Hweseung have commandeered the couch, Hun and Jaehyun on the floor in front of them. The movie of choice is an action one with an appropriately absurd amount of explosions and excitement to keep them entertained – not that any of them are particularly focused on it.

Jaehyun has been talking up a storm since he first sat down and Seunghyub isn’t particularly inclined to get him to shut up, not when Hun is laughing in front of him like this, head thrown back practically against Seunghyub’s legs. Seunghyub leans forward to grab a snack off the table, rests his arms against Hun’s shoulders as he watches his bandmates more than the screen. Jaehyun shoves something into Hun’s face and Hun clambers up onto the couch to get away, very nearly climbing right into Seunghyub’s lap.

Seunghyub traps him there, arms coming up around Hun’s middle, and settles his chin on Hun’s shoulder. Hun whines to Hweseung who makes some clever quip and Jaehyun gets loud again on his own. Seunghyub settles in, taking in the energy and camaraderie and general good vibes filling the area. It’s nice to be able to kick back and relax like this every once in a while, to feel like a regular guy just hanging out with friends.

From the corner of his eye, Seunghyub watches Hun bite off the end of a pepero stick, crunching quickly through it before starting again with another one. He bulldozes through a pack with his hamster impersonation before ripping open a new one. Seunghyub gets to it before Hun does, pulling a stick from the package and holding it out for Hun to eat.

Hun opens his mouth easily, closes his lips around the stick and holds it in his mouth once Seunghyub let go. And the noise, the movie and Jaehyun’s voice and the laughter, becomes a muted drone in the back of Seunghyub’s ears as he watches Hun’s jaw working faintly, sucking the chocolate off the biscuit.

Heat sinks down into his stomach and the temperature of the room rockets, threatening to boil him.

He digs his chin into the back of Hun’s shoulder, trying to find the will to push himself back and look away. Hun bites and the rest of the stick disappears into his mouth, along with Seunghyub’s sanity. Seunghyub shifts, scooting further back against the back of the couch, wanting to put some distance between the figure fairly in his lap and his treacherous dick.

Hun seems to take this as some sort of sign and he turns, holding out a pepero for Seunghyub who is no longer a functioning human being. He taps the stick at Seunghyub’s lips, laughing and tapping harder, joking, when Seunghyub doesn’t immediately open up and eat it. After an eternity of a second, Seunghyub regains a modicum of control over his brain, just enough to force a normal reaction and open his mouth to it each slide the snack in. He holds it between his teeth as Hun slips off the couch and back into his spot on the floor.

Seunghyub releases a shaky breath, as quietly and casually as he can, and drops his head back against the couch. The chocolate stick slides further into his mouth. He’s burning up.

Hours later, Seunghyub has infected his entire room with the same disgusting, sweltering heat. Even with the fan on full blast and trained directly on his face, the room is still too hot. He’s long since shed his shirt and pants, tossing off clothes left and right for less reason that this. Blankets all kicked to the end of the bed, Seunghyub sits in the pocket of heat that is, unfortunately, his bed.

He turns over onto his side, unable to sleep. Seunghyub had tossed and turned unsuccessfully for a while, telling himself that he can sleep anywhere, in any condition. Evidently, that is a big, fat lie. Giving up all hopes of counting sheep and praying that his brain melts before the rest of him does, he lets his thoughts finally wander.

Seunghyub feels tense, body wound up, strung taut, ready to snap. For all that they’ve all been screwing around, joking and playing during breaks in practice, they’re busy as hell, worked to the bone to keep up their newfound momentum instead of being fueled by a hungry desperation. Seunghyub hasn’t given himself a chance to relax, to unravel and fall apart and just float.

He thinks of Hun, pretty pink lips wrapped around the pepero, thinks of the tongue that darted out to lick away the chocolate at the corner of his mouth. Seunghyub’s heart rate kicks up a notch, blood pulsing. His hand inches down, stopping at the edge of his boxer briefs. He turns his face into his pillow, breathes. Once, twice. And then pushes his hand inside.

Oh, but isn’t it just singularly stupid that he’s even more on fire, barely even a touch and he’s lit up like a match, the flames dearing through his veins. He wraps his fingers around himself and pumps, slick with sweat from the humidity of the room. It’s rough, skin catching on skin, but he’s started and he can’t stop now.

He thinks of Hun, face shining with sweat, hair tousled, eyes bright and grin devastating, wild from the adrenaline of playing on stage. He thinks of Hun, brow furrowed, mouth drawn in concentration as he plays. He thinks of Hun, pick stuck between his lips.

Seunghyub breathe deep, buries his face deeper into the pillow to muffle the rough way the air leaves him. His hand moves faster and he squeezes a little tighter, stomach clenching.

He thinks of Hun’s wide eyes, the way he looks up when his head is tilted down, how it seems like he can see all the way through Seunghyub. Unbidden, he remembers, the unmarred expanse of Hun’s thigh, and his mind conjures up a new addition, a “what if“. He sees Hun on the couch, face flushed, straining against the front of his underwear, and the easy way his legs fall open. Hun’s mouth opens as he slips his hand in to touch, head falling back and mouth opening as he moves. His arm moves quickly, a speed brought on by years and years of strumming, pumping in a rhythm too fast for Seunghyub to keep up with.

It brings him to the edge, muscles all tense, and the thought of Hun’s breathy, _ hyung _, pushes him right over, catapulting him straight down as he groans into the sheets, riding it through with the deep push of his hips. The room is still burning, caught up in flames all around him, but what a horrendous joke but that he’s relaxed enough to sleep, every bit of him strung out and boneless. As quickly as he can, he cleans up, turns over one last time, and falls asleep.

-

Seunghyub wakes up first for once, stretching and feeling the bones click back into place before he rolls out of bed. He showers first, bringing his brain back to life enough to go make coffee. Wet hair slicked back, wearing as little clothing as he can get away with (which may as well not be any for how large the holes are in his tank top), Seunghyub watches the coffee drip into the pot like a zombie, phone hanging from his hand.

Hun is nearly silent as he pads into the kitchen, bare feet dragging with every step. His head thunks against Seunghyub’s shoulder blade.

“Hnngh,“ he groans, forehead pushing against Seunghyub’s back.

The sound that comes out of Hun’s throat is low and scratchy, ripped from him like silk over gravel.

Rather than responding, Seunghyub pulls another mug down and waits, Hun following along like a bedraggled shadow. Coffee in finally hand, Seunghyub leads them out to the couch, Hun collapsing onto it immediately, uncaring of his poor mouth as he takes a long drink from the cup handed to him. Mug half drained, Hun leans into Seunhyub’s side. Seunghyub wraps his arm around the figure attempting to bury himself in Seunghyub’s ribcage and pulls him even closer.

They sit in silence as Hun wakes up against him, Seunghyub scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. He can’t resist, snapping a quick photo of the occasion, proudly keeping a record of the cat that came back for attention.

Seunghyub won’t share it with anyone, this one is just for him.

When Hun finally stairs again, hair pushed all over the place, eyes barely open, he yawns directly into Seunghyub’s face. It’s mostly disgusting, morning breath mixed with stale coffee, and Seunghyub flops onto him, puts his full weight on Hun and goes limp in retaliation, laughing as Hun flails uselessly under him.

“Ah, hyung!“ He cries. “You’re crushing me. I’m dying!“

And, because he is nothing if not a dramatic baby, Hun starts gurgling and choking before going completely still. Seunghyub lifts his face from the cushions and gives into his temptation, finally, pressing his lips against the side of Hun’s neck and blowing.

Hun screeches, arms waving wildly as he is miraculously revitalized, brought back to life by the power of rude noises and abused skin. Incensed, Hun launches a tickle attack that Seunghyub immediately returns, Hun shrieking with laughter and pleas that sound more like threats. Seunghyub gives as good as he gets, his nose pressed into Hun’s disgusting, unwashed hair.

(Hweseung finds them, woken up by all the noise they were causing. He walks out into the living room to see Hun sitting on Seunghyub’s chest, smacking his head with a couch cushion as Seunghyub, for some inconceivable reason, is struck with a fit of laughter. Hweseung shakes his head at them before slumping back into his room.)

Despite his protest, Hun’s smile is wide and open, his eyes shining as he looks up at Seunghyub. And, for his part, Seunghyub knows he looks just the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> delphinium: i will make make you happy  
zinnia: absence/daily rememberance
> 
> suggested listening:  
[N.Flying - Sunset](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7HbkqfNDHpg)  
[N.Flying - Up All Night ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJ9cEgtHoXg)


	2. Anemone coronaria, Dendranthema grandiflora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not truly one of my fics unless i project onto at least one character!!! small hand musicians unite ;;

Having small hands is a distinct disadvantage for musicians. Hun’s always felt bitter about this, his small hands and short, stubby fingers. He can work as hard as he wants, spend hours practicing and perfecting, but he’s always going to fall short - _ short _ \- when it comes to someone naturally gifted with larger hands and longer fingers. No matter how much effort he puts in, he’ll always have to give more to make up for his physical shortcomings.

At the end of the day, he stretches, palms sore, fingers aching from the strain of playing. His right hand is fine, cramped, but otherwise okay, but he shakes out his left hand, tries to fling away the burn running through his fingers. Seunghyub catches him running through his stretches, Hun sucking in air a little more loudly after a more demanding session has him flexing a trembling hand.

“Do you need to ice your hand?” Seunghyub asks, getting in close to ask without the others hearing, doubly considerate of not just Hun’s wellbeing, but the worry of the others too. Ever the attentive leader.

Hun shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. I just need to rest it.”

He pushes each finger back in turn, gently, fighting the irrational wish that if he does it often enough, his fingers will grow longer.

Eventually.

(Never.)

In the back of the room, Jaehyun starts singing enthusiastically, slightly off key at first and then incredibly off key as his voice raises. Hweseung cackles loudly as Jaehyun’s voice cracks, throat dry. Hun snorts, pushing all his fingers back together with the heel of his other hand, breathing in sharply through his nose as his palm spasms.

Seunghyub shakes his head, sits on one of the amps as he drags Hun’s chair close. He grabs Hun’s hand and Hun opens his mouth to protest, snaps his teeth shut on the works when Seunghyub’s thumbs dig carefully into his palm. Eyes closed, Hun endures the special treatment, focusing on the pain each deliberate press brings.

His shoulders slump, hand relaxing in Seunghyub’s grasp as he looks, watches Seunghyub’s thumbs move in small circles, watches the way his long, thin fingers wrap around the back of Hun’s hand. He feels a spike of jealousy streak through, feels it sting sharper than the ache in his hand when Seunghyub’s knuckles push into the ball of his hand.

Seunghyub’s hands are perfect for the guitar, perfect for the piano, perfect for anything he sets his mind to because he’s Seungjjang and he pulls music out of thin air like it’s just waiting to be found.

There’s a dull electric buzz reverberating through one of the amps, chugging away from Hun’s still plugged in guitar. Hun lets the drone take over his head. 

Seunghyub massages the tired muscles of Hun’s hand, paying attention to every part of it, moving onto his wrist once he finishes with the fingers. It’s so focused, all of Seunghyub’s attention funneled down to Hun’s hand that Hun finds himself getting embarrassed. He casts around to find something to distract himself, coming up empty handed when he spots Hweseung power napping in the corner of the room and Jaehyun playing a game on his phone, headphones plugged into his ears.

When Seunghyub lets go of his hand, Hun’s ready to breathe a sigh of relief, a little jittery and ready to be released, but Seunghyub just grabs his other hand and starts the process over again.

“This hand’s fine, hyung, you don’t need to do this one,” Hun tells him, voice dipping into a slightly panicked whine as he tries to tug out of Seunghyub’s grasp.

But Seunghyub ignores him, deaf to Hun’s protest as he keeps his grip on Hun’s hand and continues the same, careful treatment. Hun hangs his head, face warm as he shirts, free hand grasping at the chair beneath him. He taps at the pedal board with a foot, just to give himself something to do so he doesn’t have to look up and see every fiber of Seunghyub’s being laser pointed right into the palm of his hand.

-

The temperature drops, leaves browning and beginning to fall. They're unprepared for the sudden chill, the abrupt announcement of the presence of fall catching everyone off guard. Hun should have seen it coming. Instead, he's left with no jacket and a persistent breeze tickling the back of his neck.

He's shoved in the back seat with Seunghyub and, for some god forsaken reason, the air in the van is on, so he's quietly shivering away on his own. Normally he'd have no problem protesting and complaining, but the others not only seem to not be bothered by the cool temperature, they look like they're revelling in it. Hun can understand this: he loathes the heat. But the human body is stubborn in wanting to maintain a certain temperature and his body is currently _ not _ at that.

Seunghyub has even shed his jacket, skin bared to the elements - at least as far as there are elements in the car. Hun normally likes the cold but he’s wholly unprepared and therefore any inconvenience is an attack upon his very person. He’s caught up in his self-imposed grumpiness when Seunghyub chucks his jacket at Hun’s face.

Hun becomes aware of this when said jacket lands on his head, obscuring his vision and smooshing his nose in a thoroughly unpleasant manner. He pulls it off his face and Seunghyub gives him a knowing look, nudging his shoulder and nodding at the jacket, pointedly glancing at the goosebumps covering Hun’s bared arms. Hun pulls the jacket on backwards, buries his hands in the ends of the sleeves and folds his legs up onto the seat.

He must look pitiful because Seunghyub throws an arm over Hun’s shoulders and drags him into his side. Hun goes easily, burrowing into Seunghyub and the jacket, wrapped up, encompassed. The van jolts to a slow stop as they pull into a gas station on their way back, the smell of gasoline briefly fills the car, sharp and sour. Hun ducks his nose into the hood of Seunghyub’s jacket, breathes him in and sighs him out, Seunghyub’s arm tight around him.

-

Jaehyun is usually his roommate whenever they’re on tour. This is probably a calculated measure to stick the two of them together to balance each other out - and also because Hweseung snores and Seunghyub’s the only one willing to put up with it. Hun doesn’t mind it. In fact, he loves it; on top of being best friends, Jaehyun might be his actual, literal soulmate. Plus, Jaehyun always falls asleep right after his shower so Hun has time to just chill out and decompress before their concerts.

He’s watching videos on his phone, buried between the sheets with the AC quietly churning away in the background. The volume is turned low because he’s too lazy to go across the room and get his headphones from his bag, and he hears talking from the room over. Hun knows it’s Seunghyub and Hweseung’s room, could tell even if he hadn’t seen them walk inside earlier because Seunghyub’s deep voice coming through the wall is unmistakable.

There’s a way that certain things creep into your brain, grab hold and never let go. Seunghyub has been a constant presence in his life for more years than he cares to count, and with that comes his voice. It’s been an unwavering fixture in Hun’s ears - laughing, shouting, singing, rapping, quiet, excited, serious, broken. He’s heard it all for years.

Out of a million, Hun could pick out Seunghyub’s voice and he’d never be wrong.

Hun stops the video, pulls up Instagram and tries to tune out the rumble pushing its way through the walls. Hweseung’s laugh, high and bright, is muffled by the thin plasterboard separating the two rooms. But Seunghyub’s answering response comes through loud and clear, the words indecipherable but steady, penetrating.

Finally, Hun gets up and sidesteps Jaehyun’s bag, its contents spilling out onto the floor. The faucet provides a nice, easy, constant drone, the sound of water filling the bathroom with white noise as he brushes his teeth, zoning.

He can still hear it as he climbs into bed, the low tone carrying through the thin walls, vibrating in the air until Hun can’t block it out, until it’s stuck in is ears, warm and persistent. At the risk of waking Jaehyun, Hun wants to knock on the wall until they quiet down and he can hear the silence buzzing in the room. He doesn’t.

Hun doesn’t get to sleep until hours later and Seunghyub’s voice has faded into the darkness.

He corners Seunghyub the next morning, crowding him just before they pile into the van that’ll take them to the venue for soundcheck.

“Did you know,” he starts grumpily, brain still catching up to being awake. “That your voice travels through walls more than Hweseung’s? Because I could hear you talking all damn night.”

Hun’s met with a dumbfounded look, Seunghyub’s eyebrows furrowing, before he’s shouldering his way into the backseat.

-

It’s not really uncommon for practices to devolve into chaos; they all take their work very seriously, but it’s exactly that fact that leads to impromptu song rearrangements and flat out improvised noise in nearly every group session. Rather than being a quelling factor, Seunghyub is often a primary instigator of the nonsense - not that any of them are particularly stringent about trying to put a stop to it. On the contrary, any divergence from plans is strictly encouraged.

They end up messing around during a brief break: it starts with Jaehyun making a beat, steady and fast. Then Hun joins in with a rhythm which prompts some flourishing adlibs from Hweseung. Seunghyub finishes off with a freestyle rap about moolbbang, complete with a vocal cameo from moolbbang himself.

And Hun is hunched over his guitar in near tears by the end of it, his laughter only adding to the cacophony of noise erupting in the room.

When he recovers, he starts playing F.T. Island’s _ I Hope _ , Jaehyun jumping in to provide the drum backing seamlessly. Seunghyub is tapping the beat out against his leg and all seems normal as Hweseung nods his head along, until he starts singing Twice’s _ Like Ooh Ahh _ instead. Once they’re finished with exuberant cheers from none other than the members themselves, they begin brainstorming as many other mash up bastardizations as they can possibly come up with.

Seunghyub ends up grabbing a guitar and perching himself next to Hun to discuss songs; they end up forgetting to get back to practice for the better part of an hour. They’re scolded, but Seunghyub still catches Hun’s eye and gives him a charming grin that proves he’s up to no good and promises to keep the mischief alive and find Hun after practice.

There’s a different sort of energy, youthful and wild, coursing through the room as they start up again. Hun loves it.

-

Hun is decidedly not in the habit of waking up in the middle of the night. If he were, he’d be the type to keep a glass of water next to his bed instead of being forced to trudge downstairs when he wakes up with a dry throat. Maybe it’s the weather dipping down and flirting with near freezing temperatures at night, or maybe it’s the way the heater sucks all the moisture out of the air. Whatever the reason, Hun has no choice but to journey to the kitchen if he wants to relieve his scratchy throat and have any chance of getting back to sleep.

The living room is dark, all lights shut off, and Hun feels his way through blindly, relying on memory and what little his eyes can make out. He moves slowly, careful not to catch his toes on the edge of any waiting furniture, or knock over anything that could wake anyone up. Hun’s passing by Seunghyub’s room when he hears something, a low, unidentifiable noise that makes him pause and look around. As he goes to move he hears it again, more clearly this time, a deep, cutoff groan and the rustle of sheets.

Hun freezes.

There are some things that are unavoidable when you live and work together, forced into each other’s company out of base necessity. You end up seeing all these different sides of each other, the angry ones, the vulnerable ones, the embarrassed ones. Hun’s seen Hweseung’s ass when they’ve changed clothes backstage, he’s seen Jaehyun’s dick on far more occasions than he cares to in any lifetime. Hell, Seunghyub walks around practically naked in the summer just because he can and Hun’s not above a little modest nudity if the time and place calls for it. The longer they’re all together, the less boundaries like clothes or decency or privacy seem to matter.

Hun knows what happens behind closed doors. They’re all young men with active sexual appetites - Jaehyun’s hard drive speaks for itself. They’ve joked, made lewd comments and crude gestures and references with false bravado.

But it’s one thing to know, however distantly, that your bandmates masturbate. It’s another thing entirely to be confronted with that knowledge. Hun is stuck in place, rooted to the spot by the realization that this is actually happening to him. He should go back upstairs - forget the water, dry throat be damned - and wipe all of this from his brain. Hun can still leave, can go back to his room and pretend he didn’t hear anything because he’s not going to say anything, and if Seunghyub never finds out, never hears him leave, then Hun can delude himself into it was some weird, messed up dream.

There is absolutely no reason why he should continue to stand in the dark outside of the room where he’s just discovered his hyung, his bandmate, their goddamn leader caught with his hand, quite literally, down his pants. But that’s what he does: Hun stands, in a delayed sort of shock, staring through the dark at Seunghyub’s door.

Another groan seeps from behind the door, sounds like it’s coming from low in Seunghyub’s throat and Hun is horrified at his brain when the sound, unbidden and unwanted, somehow brings up a memory from the dregs of his mind.

They’d shared a hotel room together before, on tour, and Hun had woken up to the (unfortunate) sight of Seunghyub’s morning wood tenting the front of his pants. Hun had ignored it at the time, uninterested and more than a little uncomfortable at being confronted with something he’d rather not think about. Now, he thinks of Seunghyub’s long, long fingers wrapped around that dick and feels a wash of heat run through him, dizzying.

His knees feel weak, shaky, and he sinks to the floor, right in front of Seunghyub’s room. Right in front of the room where Seunghyub’s actually _ got _ those long fingers wrapped around his dick, where he’s touching himself right now just on the other side of these doors.

And isn’t it just so sad that Hun’s so desperate that he’s getting this turned on, heart racing, starting to strain at the front of his pants just from a few little noises and his own imagination.

He huddles outside of Seunghyub’s door, one hand pressed against his mouth, half wanting to just suffocate himself, the other hand pressed against the front of his pajama pants. Hun tries not to move, tries not to dig himself deeper into this hold he seems to have dive bombed into head first, but Seunghyub lets out a breathy groan, so deep it should shake the ground, and Hun has to see.

Fingers trembling, he lifts up one of the paper squares covering the glass panels on the door. It’s dark, barely any light coming in through the closed shade. But Hun’s eyes have long since adjusted and he can just make out the silhouette of Seunghyub spread out on his bed, chin tipped up and arm working lazily. Hun lets go of the paper, squeezes his eyes shut and sees the image imprinted, permanent, on the back of his eyelids.

With a shaky breath, he counts to ten, then moves.

The air is cold in contrast to the burn of his hand and it makes him feel feverish, hot and cold and shivering. He listens, hears the sound of Seunghyub’s breathing getting faster, hears the sheets rustling, hears the quiet, slick sound of Seunghyub’s hand. Hun matches him, stroke for stroke, feeling overwhelmed, oversensitive, and unable to stop.

He thinks of Seunghyub’s fingers, his big hand cupping himself, remembers his long fingers wrapped all the way around Hun’s hand. His breath quickens, labored, and he feels the precum leak out of him, thoughts of Seunghyub’s hands on him flashing behind his eyes.

_ Hyung _, he thinks, feeling half out of his mind, the ghost of Seunghyub’s fingers skirting over his stomach.

It’s Seunghyub’s voice that does it, the deep, drawn out moan hitching in the middle, tapering off into a growl that has Hun hunched over and shaking, biting his shirt in a desperate attempt to stay quiet as he comes all over the inside of his underwear. He pants, pulls out his hand and stares at the mess in a disconnected sort of horror.

Then, as quietly as he can, Hun pushes himself up with his clean hand and gets the hell out of there before Seunghyub has the chance to find out what he did.

(Hun pretends nothing ever happened. He pretends that, whoever it was that got off to the sound of Seunghyub jerking off, in whatever timeline and universe it could have possibly happened in, it definitely wasn’t him. Because it never happened.)

-

For all that he’s opened up, Hun still very much gets lost in his own head. He’s in a permanent state of fugue, wedged in between reality and delusion ever since the Event That Never Happened; and when he’s not bogged down with other responsibilities, he’s off floating in the stratosphere, complete with a soundtrack courtesy of Alter Bridge.

They get a rainy day off and it’s the perfect weather for Hun to zone, so that’s exactly what happens. He doesn’t plan for it - just wakes to a muted room and the sound of rain pounding at the window, and just like that, the day is completely written off, washed down the drain, out for the count. Hun dozes for a bit, equal parts unwilling to face the day yet and lulled into a trance state by the white noise.

He manages to pass under everyone’s radar, Hweseung popping in late in the afternoon to see if it’s his turn to make dinner. Other than that, he’s left to his own haze of blurry thoughts and softly blaring music until Seunghyub stops by sometime in the evening to check in on him and let him know that there’s dinner waiting on the counter for when he wants it.

Hun hums noncommittally, eyes trained on the corner where the walls meet the ceiling, out of focus and distant. Seunghyub hesitates, asks, “can I come in?”, shutting the door quietly when Hun nods minutely. He sits on the edge of Hun’s bed and lets Hun simmer in his own head for a bit, silence wrapping around them in a blanket more comforting than strangling.

At Hun’s prompting, a foot bumping almost unnoticeably against Seunghyub’s hip, Seunghyub starts talking, a steady, quiet hum that Hun drifts on. It’s entirely for Hun’s benefit, he knows, but he’s thankful that Seunghyub complies without protest, carrying him along with his words. He doesn’t know when he stops following the thread that Seunghyub’s weaving, lost in thought and only found when Seunghyub leans over and knocks his knuckles gently against Hun’s temple.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, eyes soft, voice calm and welcoming. Hun can hear the smile in his voice.

Hun’s eyes shut and he inhales deeply, air rushing past his lips.

“You’re too far away,” he mumbles, turning towards the wall, face tucked into his arms.

Carefully, like he’s afraid of jostling Hun and breaking him apart, Seunghyub lays down on the bed. He’s not encroaching into Hun’s space, their bodies separated by a chasm of blankets, a river of calm pouring between them, but he’s close enough. Just letting Hun know he’s there. Seunghyub starts talking again quietly, not trying to coax Hun into replying, but accepting it all the same when he does.

His fingers are tangled in Hun’s hair as they listen to the rain and the music that’s looping back around to repeat, keeping them stuttering in time, navigating their own brains in the presence of each other.

-

Seunghyub's birthday is nestled in between rehearsal for an upcoming tour and a company Halloween party. They go out to celebrate, just as a group, and get chicken and beer; Hweseung drinks them all under the table. Younggu hyung has his work cut out for him when he herds them all back into the dorm, retiring to his room and leaving them to their continued celebration after making sure they'll all be fine and didn't drink _ too _ much.

Hun, the most sober of the bunch, watches in a sated sort of way as Seunghyub becomes increasingly more insistent on birthday kisses, nearly melting into a puddle of goo when Hweseung eventually complies and grabs his face, kissing his cheek soundly in a very manly sort of way. If Hun looks close enough, he's sure he can see a tail wagging wildly behind Seunghyub.

Jaehyun, always the baby even when he's not, becomes extremely cuddly and Seunghyub appears more than willing to indulge him and wring every hug out of the younger man that he possibly can. A surprise kiss is planted on Seunghyub's cheek when Jaehyun gets worked up enough, and he nearly screams in Seunghyub's ear as he pulls away, as if shocked that he himself could do such a thing.

Hun protests when Seunghyub demands one from him too, shoving his face away with a laugh. It doesn't take long before their intoxication allows them to be distracted by something else, leaving Hun to sit back and watch.

It takes less time than Hun expects for everyone to wind down, singing one last dissonant happy birthday before Jaehyun passes out on the couch, snoring away. Hweseung heads back to his room and Hun helps a drunk and happy Seunghyub into his own. His own buzz has thankfully worn off, leaving him both coordinated enough to maneuver a dead weight Seunghyub and very, very sleepy.

Meanwhile, Seunghyub has become the ultimate love monster and keeps trying to drag Hun down onto the bed like he's a human-sized stuffed animal. Hun pushes him back onto the mattress and brings back a glass of water. With some effort, he wrestles Seunghyub out of his hoodie and under the covers, petting his head when Seunghyub looks for praise in his drunken affection.

He shuts off the light, the alcohol catching up to him in a punch. Seunghyub is already drifting off. Hun pauses at the door, turns back and walks over to the bed in the darkness. As quietly, softly, gently as he can, he leans down and presses a feather light kiss to Seunghyub's cheek.

"Happy birthday, hyung," he says to Seunghyub's sleeping face.

He slides the door shut behind him.

-

Seunghyub is nice to everyone, that’s just the way it is. The sky is blue, water is wet, and Seunghyub treats every single person he meets like they’re important to him. Hun hates it sometimes.

At first it seems like he’s just flattering people, making sweet comments to the staff, to fans, to the uncle at the market who gives them a discount on pork belly. But the more Hun sees it, the more he realizes that it’s not an act that Seunghyub puts on, it’s just genuinely the way he is.

Seunghyub likes people and there’s something about him that makes other people like him too.

Hun’s seen it; he sees the stylists take his teasing with fond smiles and a pat on the back. He sees the stage crew talking easily with Seunghyub while they set up their instruments, like he’s one of their own, and he sees the aunties in the market patting Seunghyub’s cheek and telling him to eat more. And how could he ever miss the fans’ adoring faces, the way that they smile and cheer Seunghyub on, their saccharine, genuine messages to him delivered with shaking hands and shy smiles.

Seunghyub loves everyone and so everyone loves Seunghyub back.

Hun gets it.

After rehearsal, Younggu hyung treats them to dinner. It’s a spacious and smoky barbecue restaurant and they clamber onto a platform, shuffling around the table into their spots. Hun eats what he can reasonably shove in his mouth and then lies down against the cushions, halfway to passing out. He’s been on the edge of a cold for the last three days. There’s something that’s been going around the staff and it seems to be catching up to him, leaving him dizzy and out of sorts. Next to him, Jaehyun pats his leg and keeps eating.

At some point he must close his eyes because the next thing he knows they’re cracking open, a cool hand pressed against his forehead. He turns, feeling like his brain is sloshing around inside his head, and sees Seunghyub bracketed by the overhead lights, face a silhouette of concern. Feeling the onslaught of a headache, Hun snaps his eyes shut, head turning sharply back into his arm.

“Are you okay?” Seunghyub asks, hunching over Hun’s head. Hun nods, curling up a little more. Seunghyub shift and then there’s fingers gently pushing his bangs aside and that cool palm is pressed to his forehead again.

Hun can actually hear the frown in Seunghyub’s voice when he asks, “are you getting sick?”. He shakes his head very convincingly and not at all like it’s falling off his neck.

The underside of the table is nice and dark, and Hun wants to crawl underneath and sleep. Seunghyub’s hand slides down his back, warm and comforting, from his shoulder blade to his waist. Up and down, up and down, and Hun breathes out, sagging into the floor. A quiet _ come here _ is all the notice he gets before Seunghyub grips him under the arms and tugs Hun into his lap.

Hun goes, floppy, boneless and liquid like a cat, neither helping nor resisting. He settles in though, readjusting his head on Seunghyub’s thigh, shifting so his shoulder doesn’t dig into the floor quite so pointedly as the chatter continues around him.

Chopsticks clinking against bowls, glasses letting out a satisfying thunk as they’re returned to the table. Voices are loud and jovial, telling stories, greeting friends, laughing, shouting.

Hun is swathed in shadow from the table, from Seunghyub’s towering form, a welcome little cave of darkness surrounding him, protecting him from the outside. Seunghyub strokes his hair, blunt nails dragging lightly over his scalp, and Hun melts into it as non pathetically as he can manage in his current state. (Which isn’t much, but he has plausible deniability, being sick and all.)

Every once in a while, Seunghyub’s voice rumbles in his chest, deep and quaking as he responds softly to the others. Hun can feel it, the sound vibrating against the top of his head, tingling. Seunghyub cares for everyone, but especially them. The members - the band - mean so much to him and they all know it, he’d give up the world to keep playing with them, no matter what kind of success or struggle the future may hold for them.

Before, Jaehyun was the baby of the group, loud and always accommodated and, despite the few short days that separate them, Hun was never really treated that way. And then Hweseung came along, young and new, and they all accepted him with open arms. He became the new maknae and was doted on to the fullest, with Seunghyub taking it a step further and very nearly adopting him as his actual son, for how much he treats him like it.

Hun’s not bitter, he’s really not. For all that he’s opened up, he’s still fine with keeping to himself.

But it’s nice to be taken care of sometimes.

So now, even with everyone talking, eating, telling jokes above the table, Seunghyub has a way of making it feel like all his attention is on Hun, hand still carding comfortingly through Hun’s hair. There’s something about Seunghyub that makes people feel special. But to Hun, it feels like it really means something when he does stuff like this.

-

The living room is cozy, bathed in warm orange light, creating a toasty little puff of comfort. It’s where Hun finds Seunghyub, napping on the couch in a tumblr of blankets like a big lazy dog. Fighting his first instinct, Hun doesn’t bother him, instead perching on the arm of the couch and watching the quiet way that Seunghyub’s chest makes the blankets rise and dip as he breathes.

It takes a while, the silence unbroken and peaceful for a bit, but Hun eventually gets tired of waiting, stops finding the room or his phone or Seunghyub’s shiny nose or wispy bangs especially interesting. He tickles the sole of Seunghyub’s foot through the blankets, insistent, annoying. It wakes him up gently, pulls him from sleep like a leaf on a stream, gliding and placid.

Seunghyub breathes deeply as he stretches, one foot pressing into Hun’s thigh as his ridiculously long limbs reach past the length of the couch. That fully wakes him up, an eye cracking open, his face scrunched up. His hair is stuck strangely to the side of his head where it molded against the couch, pressing thin, shallow lines into the soft skin of his cheek.

“Hun-ah, you’re back,” he mumbles, words thick. His voice is deep, deeper than normal, like someone turned up the bass on his internal sound system and left it there to reverberate inside Hun’s ribcage.

Hun makes a sound of confusion, opening his mouth to say that he never left, that he’s been in his room since they got back. But Seunghyub sits up just far enough to get a hand around Hun’s wrist before he’s falling back, dragging Hun down with him. He goes easily but not without a customary dramatic complaint about his back being broken or some other such inflammatory nonsense.

His words lose all impact (if they ever even had any at all) when he settles into the mass of blankets voluntarily. He’s half hanging off the couch, nearly a head lower than Seunghyub, and Seunghyub drapes himself over Hun, weight pressing him down, down, into the cushions. His vision is nearly completely obscured by the blankets and Seunghyub’s arm.

Seungyub dwarfs him, huge body engulfing Hun like a great dane. He’s a heavy warmth at Hun’s back, nose buried in Hun’s hair, surrounding him from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. Hun drags Sunghyub’s arm, maneuvers him until Hun can use his hand as a pillow. He tells himself he may as well get comfortable if he’s being forced into spooning, knowing full well that he didn’t even try to protest. Fell into it willingly, in fact.

It’s going to get unbearably warm soon. The temperature is already creeping into uncomfortable territory by virtue of their blanket insulation and shared body heat, but Hun figures that’s something for future Hun to deal with - present Hun is going to lay with human heating pad Lee Seunghyub and leech all the affection from him that he can. As far as he can tell, Seunghyub is more than happy to comply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anemone: helpless love  
chrysanthemum: sincere feelings
> 
> suggested listening:  
[N.Flying - 골목길에서 (Crossroad)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7aRXoudGZag)  
[N.Flying - 너 없는 난 (Fall With You)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AXK2KvGDBU)
> 
> referenced songs:  
[F.T. Island - I Hope](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0Far5Y9ZCs)  
[Twice - Like Ooh Ahh (N.Flying cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVyoJTzblxs)


	3. Camellia japonica, Freesia leichtlinii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [pls someone just kiss this poor boy already](https://twitter.com/SavyGuitar/status/1163363962899128320)  
[(edit: omg ask and ye shall receive tbh)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iN_gnqaHRA4)  

> 
> anyway here's wonderwall

It happens completely by accident.

Seunghyub is minding his own business playing League in his room when his door slides open and Hun shuffles in. He flops on the bed in a way that suggests that he's subtly trying to test if he can break another spring in the mattress, and Seunghyub spares him a glance before turning back to his game. Hun stays quiet and it doesn't take long before Seunghyub forgets he's there, mired in tense battle as he is.

"Shit," he curses as his Jinx is wiped out, dropping the controller on his desk and leaning back in his chair. Seunghyub watches as his final teammate is wiped out; the match ends and he dejectedly leaves before he can queue again. He sinks down, very nearly sliding right off the chair, spins around in frustration until his eyes land on the motionless figure laying in his bed.

"Hunnie," Seunghyub whines as he climbs on the bed to join him.

Hun levels a stare at him.

"What."

"Hunnie, I lost." Seunghyub gives his best sad puppy look and is met with absolute apathy.

For his part, Hun does a good job of ignoring Seunghyub's pathetic, dejected grumbling, staring at his phone in silence instead. But he does bring a hand up, patting Seunghyub's head twice.

"There, there," he says flatly, but Seunghyub can see a smile hiding on the edge of his lips.

Seunghyub seizes his chance and nestles in, ducks under Hun's raise arm and burrows into Hun's hoodie. Hun sighs, but it seems more like an exaggeration than anything else because he doesn't move or push Seunghyub away or even protest. He just readjusts his arm and goes back to his phone. Seunghyub doesn't particularly bother him this time, content to lay in silence and stare blatantly at Hun's phone screen for entertainment.

Why Hun chose Seunghyub's room to do this when he could have been anywhere else in the house, Seunghyub doesn't know, but he's never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth when he can learn to ride instead.

In his scrolling, Hun passes a photo of a dog in a hat and Seunghyub’s attention is caught.

“Wait, go back up,” he urges, pushing in closer.

Surprisingly, Hun obliges without protest and Seunghyub laughs when he sees the dog again.

“Wow, look at it.” He shakes his head and stares at the solemn, squinting dog dwarfed by its large hat.

Hun snorts and the shit-eating grin is evident in his voice as he says, “it looks like you, hyung.”

“Yah!”

Jokingly incensed, Seunghyub dives forward and rubs his face into Hun's stomach, shaking his head aggressively and growling like a territorial dog. Laughing, Hun pushes at his shoulders, kicking his legs around for absolutely no reason. It doesn't take long for Seunghyub to pull away, coughing as laughter catches in his throat. That only sets Hun off again, his voice ringing out in a beautiful, throaty pizzicato.

When they finally settle back down, Hun breaks away and splays himself against the wall. His socked foot bumps against Seunghyub's and it sets them off again almost immediately. They push their feet together in some strange form of wrestling, locked in battle, until Hun decides to play dirty: he does his weird foot thing, folding his toes underneath Seunghyub's along the bottom of his foot in a way that has Seunghyub squirming and jerking his legs back.

Once he's recovered, Seunghyub retaliates and uses his - admittedly - weirdly long toes to tickle Hun's feet and from there, the battle morphs, their voices ringing out in shouts of laughter and cries of revenge.

He grabs Hun's ankle and drags him forward, intent on getting his fingers on Hun's sides to tickle him,but Hun flails, grabs Seunghyub's wrist, nails scratching against Seunghyub's skin, dragging along the inside of his forearm. Hun pulls away, flattens himself as much as he can into the crack between the wall and the bed, arms crossed in front of him like a shield.

And Seunghyub has to pretend to be normal as he's assaulted with the immediate and intimate knowledge that, as per his incidentally gathered intel over the years, Hun has not jacked off in a while.

As much as Seunghyub would like to think that he can play calm, cool, and collected in any situation, what really happens is that his brain shuts down in a concentrated effort to not actually process what he's just discovered . He's running on autopilot as he desperately avoids looking between Hun's legs or at his hands or any part of him in general, really. This continues for a blessedly short amount of time, Hun none the wiser, until Jaehyun crashes in and steals Hun away.

Seunghyub tries to avoid thinking about it or anything at all because he doesn't want to be  _ that  _ pathetic. He gives up later that night.

-

Seunghyub is the personification of duality. Even with all of the strange people that Hun’s met in his years of orbiting the celebrity circuit, all the characters among them, he’s sure he’s never met anyone quite as bizarre as Seunghyub. (And that includes Jaehyun.)

Because Seunghyub is tall and handsome and talented at just about everything, and while that makes him sound like a dime a dozen among their contemporaries, he’s somehow humble and kind through it all. And it almost drives Hun up a wall because perfection should not exist in human form and, in one way or another, it does.

That said, Seunghyub is incredibly odd.

On the one hand, he’s got a face sculpted by the gods but on the other hand, he uses it to do things like show off weird oppa, eyes rolled back in his head until only the whites are showing. He’s got a calm, deep, soothing voice but he uses it to emit high pitched Doraemon-esque screams at the top of his lungs. And, much to the probable envy of many a boy group member, he’s in possession of a fantastically sculpted body that he shows off to absolutely no one outside of the dorm. Oh, sure, he gives the fans a tease of his arms every once in a while, but hardly anything more.

Seunghyub is the whole package, a certified gift to grace the earth and what does he do? He keeps a dead bee on his windowsill for years and calls it a friend. It’s so idiotically charming, so completely ass backwards from the rest of the population, and somehow he makes it work.

Hun wants to fall into the earth.

-

The snow outside has them locked into an all-day movie marathon. Predictably, it started with Hun and Jaehyun and, over the course of the morning, they’d roped in Seunghyub and Hweseung once they’d emerged from their rooms. They’d cobbled together an impressive amount of blankets which have been formed into a half-assed fort of sorts but are mostly just strewn about the couch they’re all, somehow, crammed onto.

Younggu hyung has forbidden them from turning on the heater because of the electric bill going through the roof the year prior. But it’s probably for the best anyway considering how warm Seunguhyub already is, pressed in between the two mini furnaces known as Hweseung and Hun. This is, of course, not even mentioning that he has no less than three blankets tossed over his lap.

There's a tonal shift in the movie they're watching as the two leads finally recognize their love for each other and fall into bed together. Normally this sort of thing wouldn't cause that much of an issue or really any sort of blip on the scale of discomfort. But as per his truest nature, Seunghyub is equal parts desperate and pathetic.

He's watched movies with the other members where things get a little sexy - and no, they haven't stooped to watching porn together, but regular movies where maybe the censorship laws aren't so strict. And it's fine. It's  _ fine _ . Yes, Seunghyub is consumed with an incredible yearning every so often and he's just got to put up with it, but it's fine. It's normal.

It doesn't feel so normal this time, not with all the tension that he's been building up due to their busy schedules. So now that they've got some down time, Seunghyub is quietly boiling under the blankets as he tries not to focus on the people rolling around in bed together on the screen.

He zones out, mind wandering, focus drifting because the heat has him settling into a comfortable, almost sleepy haze. Against his will, and any better judgement he may possess, Seunghyub thinks about Hun's leg pressed against his, hip to knee, and superimposes that with the movie he's vaguely taking in, somewhere in the back of his mind. And then he's thinking about if it were just the two of them there on the couch, and what if he crawled under the blankets and pushed up Hun's loose pajama pants, nosed his way up along Hun's inner thigh and bit down on the soft flesh there.

Hun's knee could hook over his shoulder and he could dig his heel into Seunghyub's back, urge him forward, forward.

A raucous eruption of sound jolts Seunghyub back to reality and he glances over to see Jaehyun and Hun quaking with laughter beside him. The actuality of the situation hits him like a gale force wind and Seunghyub reels, distantly guilty, because he really shouldn't be thinking about sucking off his bandmate and close friend within proximity of said bandmate  _ and _ their other members. It feels like a sort of betrayal almost and he'd very much like the earth to open up beneath him and drop him into the fiery depths.

It's only worse when he's made aware of the problem he's developed as a result of his treacherous imagination. Seunghyub has the singularly unpleasant duty of shifting, readjusting himself as subtly as he can beneath the blankets because he's the idiot who popped a stiffy while literally surrounded by people, smashed in between their youngest member and the guy whose legs he wants to get lost in.

Cheeks pink from the warmth, thankfully disguising the flush that's sprouted from his out of control desire, Seunghyub has never been so thankful to be drowning in a sea of heat, the blankets helping to conceal his absolute idiocy.

-

It sometimes seems like Seunghyub’s trying to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Hun knows that, as a leader, Seunghyub wants to take responsibility for everything so that they don’t have to, but sooner or later it’s going to get too heavy for him. It’s all strictly metaphorical, but that doesn’t mean there’s no real world consequences.

Which is how Hun finds himself settling in behind Seunghyub after a long day, fingers digging into the tense muscles of Seunghyub’s capable shoulders. They talk, Seunghyub telling him about a movie he watched the week before, casual, simple, easy. Unaware of Hun’s internal mental breakdown happening quietly behind him.

Hun feels the bones beneath his hands, feels the muscles shift underneath his palms when Seunghyub moves, feels the skin warm against his fingertips, separated by a thin layer of fabric. The room is cold, almost uncomfortable, but heat is pouring out of him, wrapping around him, trapping him in place, keeping his hands affixed to Seunghyub’s back. He’s not trembling, he’s not that pathetic, but an ache builds inside him and threatens to break him apart. Maybe if Hun just ignores it, it will all go away.

He grinds a knuckle into a knot in Seunghyub’s trapezius in a petty, uncalled for act of revenge and the score is immediately set back in Seunghyub’s favor when he lets out a pained but grateful groan. Hun is seconds away from jumping out the window.

With crumbling insides and a resolve so fractured it may as well be a mosaic, Hun continues to work away until Seunghyub gives him the all clear. His hands shake from the unique kind of ache that comes from working with untrained hands. He slaps Seunghyub’s back lightly, the sound sharp in the silence.

Seunghyub tackles him to the bed and Hun screams bloody murder, loud shrieks ripping their way from his throat, because it’s easier this way. Because it’s easier to pretend that he’s gripping hard at Seunghyub’s shoulders to push him away rather than acknowledge how absolutely fucked he is if he admits that he wants to drag him closer.

He kicks his feet and tries not to think about Seunghyub’s hands on him. It’s all just good fun.

That’s all it is.

-

Never let it be said that Seunghyub isn’t shameless.

(He may not be as shameless as Jaehyun but that doesn’t mean he can’t take his rightful place as runner up.)

When he wants something, when he’s feeling needy and cuddly, Seunghyub has no qualms about grabbing the closest member and holding on to his heart’s content. So when the mood strikes, as it’s wont to do, and leaves him feeling lonely and attention-starved, Seunghyub lets his mind wander.

For all that he always wants more, Seunghyub is slightly spoiled by his bandmates. They put up with a ridiculous amount of his nonsense and he’s thankful for it. Seunghyub knows that he’s allowed to get away with a lot more than maybe he strictly should be. He doesn’t want to push it.

But sometimes, in the safety of his mind, he lets his imagination play out.

It’s mostly innocent, a simple desire to casually express his love in a slightly less than platonically conventional way. He wants to bite Hweseung’s cheeks, bury his face in Jaehyun’s stomach, press his nose into the nape of Hun’s neck.

These things, while perhaps a tad strange, are within fairly normal limits.

Then there’s the times he gets caught up in his head and forgets that you shouldn’t stare at the mouths of people you’ve known for a decade and wonder how they’d kiss someone.

He can guess though. Jaehyun would be enthusiastic and passionate. Hweseung would be fierce. Hun would be...intense, maybe. Focused. But these are only guesses. It’s probably an issue that Seunghyub sometimes thinks about risking it all just to learn what it’s like to have Hun’s mouth on him. He wants to find out first hand, explore and catalogue and get eaten alive.

Hun’s mouth has sharp corners, sharp teeth and an even sharper tongue. Seunghyub wants to see him kiss someone,  _ really _ kiss someone, wants to see Hun devour them. He wants to feel the heat of Hun’s lips, wants to cut his tongue along the edges of Hun’s teeth, wants to bite down and scream and drown inside him.

Seunghyub’s in it so deep that the light of day won’t even reach him, his desires hiding in the shadows cast by the sun and breaking out to play under the cover of stars, running wild. These are the impulses he pushes down, ignores until they get too strong and force his hand, dry and rough in the privacy of his room.

It’s gotten to the point where Seunghyub might actually die if someone kisses him and it’s very likely the members have noticed this by now. He’s probably made one too many “jokes” about it in too short a period of time - because if even the fans have picked up on it then there’s no way the people who are with him almost twenty four/seven have somehow managed to miss it.

Seunghyub knows he’s gained a bit of a reputation for being more than a little desperate.

It’s not that he can’t stand it or anything - really, the whole thing is terribly overblown - it’s just that he constantly craves affection and wants to indulge the urge. But really, it’s not a problem. The members like to tease him for it, sly little playful jabs meant to rile him up a bit. Harmless. But Seunghyub is wondering if it’s not starting to hit a little too close to home.

All he does is make a small comment, an offhand, throwaway joke when they’re all deciding the punishment for a game.

“Loser has to kiss the winner,” he suggests with a laugh, arm slung over Hweseung’s shoulders.

No one is supposed to take it seriously. They’ve used it as a punishment before to the point where it’s become something of a running joke, even on Vlive, but evidently there’s just a smidge too much  _ something _ in it for them to ignore. Hun protests, makes loud unintelligible nonsense noises while Hweseung shakes his head with a shit-eating grin.

And then there’s Jaehyun shouting in mock frustration, “Ah, someone just kiss him already before he explodes!”

They burst into peals of laughter at Seunghyub’s expense while he quietly wishes to disintegrate in the middle of it all. Hun shoves Hweseung at him as sacrifice, laughter radiant in his throat. Seunghyub sulks, pouting until Jaehyun appeases him with aegyo so ridiculous that Seunghyub can’t keep a straight face.

For his part, Hweseung allows himself to be smothered with Seunghyub’s attention for a commendable duration of time as they decide on a proper punishment - a glass of fish sauce coffee - and continue their game. The battle rages but, in the end, when Hun loses, Seunghyub thinks it serves him right for laughing the loudest and takes immense pleasure in Hun’s overexaggerated gagging.

-

A sick Seunghyub is not pretty. While it may be a rare event for Hun to actually audibly admit that Seunghyub is handsome, he has no qualms about letting him know when he's looking less than perfect. It's not out of cruelty - Seunghyub is just stupidly attractive approximately all the time so it's Hun's god-given duty to point out when Seunghyub's eyes are swollen or when he's got snot dripping from his nose, otherwise he might actually lose it.

Jaehyun and Hun are going to see a movie and Hweseung is out for a radio schedule, so Seunghyub is relegated to bed, all alone in the dorm. Hun doesn't spare it much mind, figuring that any amount of relaxation or sleep that any of them can cram in is probably for the better. He puts it out of his mind, all thoughts of Seunghyub locked away to be dealt with later.

It's strangely quiet when he and Jaehyun return, the dorm somehow seeming more empty than when there's actually no one around. Jaehyun goes upstairs almost immediately and Hun decides it's his duty as second-most hyung to be the responsible one and check on Seunghyub, especially considering Younggu hyung is still away with Hweseung. With a sigh, as if he's undergoing a great undertaking, Hun pushes open Seunghyub's doors.

The room is mostly dark, lights off and sunlight barely sneaking in through the shades. Hun makes his way over to check. Seunghyub is asleep, bundled up in sweats and buried underneath a veritable mountain of blankets. His face is sweaty, hair sticking up all over the place, mouth open and emitting raspy breaths. Still, Hun checks his temperature, the damp skin burning beneath his palm.

Seunghyub wakes up at that small, mindful movement, deep voice hoarse and cracking, a half note more nasal on account of his stuffed up nose. Hun gets him water when Seunghyub refuses any food, brings in a cool, damp cloth to clean his face and a fever patch to place across his forehead. He sets a bottle of medication within reach on the desk, in case Seunghyub feels up to taking it, and fills Seunghyub in on everyone's whereabouts, just in case he was wondering. Seunghyub is mostly out of it, still riding on the edge of sleep, and Hun backs out of the room when Seunghyub's eyes finally stop blinking open.

He keeps everyone out of the living room for the night so Seunghyub can get some peace and quiet, brings him jook for dinner, and checks in on him every couple of hours until Seunghyub's congested snores finally register him as knocked him out for the night.

Seunghyub is back in commission the next day, throat sore and nose stuffy, but otherwise having passed the worst of whatever it was that hit him. His hair is washed, his face less puffy, and his smile is back in place. Hun doesn't tell him how handsome he looks because he doesn't think he can stand it. Instead, he complains about Seunghyub wearing the same sick clothes, tells him to go change because he stinks, and makes him lunch.

-

Minor (and, unfortunately, sometimes major) injuries come with the territory, so it’s no surprise that Hun comes back to the dorm one night complaining loudy of a sore back. He must be feeling particularly tired because he’s being a big baby about it, whining to anyone and everyone about pulling a muscle during a 2idiots shoot and flopping dramatically - if not gingerly - on Seunghyub’s bed with the excuse that he can’t go up the stairs.

As it turns out, Hun is in more pain than he lets on, a strangled noise pushing past his lips as he rolls onto his side, drawing Seunghyub’s attention away from his computer. Seunghyub helps ease Hun onto his side, promising, “I’ll be careful, let me help you”. A pleading note may leak into his voice or else Hun is aching for some form of relief because he accepts quickly, face sunk straight into the sheets.

“I’m returning the favor,” he reasons, shushing Hun’s mild noises.

Seunghyub settles on his heels above the backs of Hun’s thighs, careful not to let any of his bodyweight press down onto Hun for fear of injuring him further. He warms up his hands, rubs them together vigorously for a few seconds, hopeful that even the brief heat will help negate some of the pain. Seunghyub presses his palms gently against Hun’s lower back, not really massaging so much as warming up the skin, fingers working gently over Hun’s back.

Hun is quiet through most of it after Seunghyub starts, face still shoved into the sheets and body lax underneath Seunghyub. He lets out muffled grunts, inadvertent noises of pain slipping out whenever the muscles are pressed wrong. Seunghyub stays as gentle as he can, runs his thumbs up and down the heated skin, works out the kinks in Hun’s upper back when the sensitivity along his spine gets to be too much.

As carefully as possible, mindful not to jostle him, Seunghyub pushes Hun’s shirt up until it’s rucked up beneath his armpits, bunched up against the back of his neck. Hun’s back is on display before him, unmarred and burning. It’s dry, Seunghyub’s hands sliding over smoothly, and he’s doing this for Hun’s benefit, can’t stand to see him in pain. But in the back of his mind, he can’t help but thank every lucky star he can think of.

Hun is putty by the time Seunghyub finishes, limp and lazy, eyes half closed like a cat that’s been pampered with pets - which is not too far from the truth. He flops against Seunghyub when Seunghyub tries to move him, a dead weight in his arms. Seunghyub guides him into a position that’s got to be more comfortable than his knee digging into Hun’s spleen.

It doesn’t seem to matter though; Hun’s not asleep but he’s close, and Seunghyub can’t help but to bury his nose into the hood of Hun’s jacket, breathe in deep and write Hun’s scent all over the inside of his lungs. When Hun finally calls it quits, Seunghyub sends him off with a heating pack and an aching heart.

-

Sometimes Seunghyub disappears up onto the rooftop terrace. It seems more like Hun’s M.O. - even Hun can admit that - but if they can’t find Seunghyub hanging out somewhere inside, it’s not hard to guess where he is. He usually doesn’t have anything with him, preferring to stare out over the ledge and watch the city, alive and busy. Hun had asked him once and Seunghyub had told him, thoughtful and distant, that everything feels much bigger from this high up.

This time he has a guitar with him, fingers strumming absently, eyes glazed and unfocused when Hun goes up to the roof to find him. The wind is brisk, flipping up Seunghyub’s bangs and the edges of his jacket, surrounding him like a mini whirlwind of power. Seunghyub doesn’t seem to notice Hun approaching with his hands stuffed in his pockets to ward off the chill.

The city bustles below them, full of movement and sound and energy, drowning out the quiet sound of Seunghyub playing as Hun sits down beside him. After some time, Hun shifts and Seunghyub snaps out of his trance, blinking over at Hun as his hands still.

“Hey,” he says, face breaking out of the serious, somewhat melancholic coating it had adopted.

Hun smiles. “Hey.”

He nods at the guitar, chin tipping in question and Seunghyub hands it over easily.

Hun grabs the instrument and gives it a cursory strum, sticks the pick between his lips as he tunes the strings that have gone sharp from the cold. He can feel Seunghyub's stare on him, but Seunghyub says nothing so Hun doesn't either.

Once he's satisfied, Hun strums, improvising whatever pops into his head and letting the soft sound of the guitar spill out into the air, over the edge of the roof.

Far below them, streetlights begin to flicker on, yellow light popping up along the street in a mismatched staccato. Hun stares out over the tops of buildings, playing faintly until Seunghyub's eyes close and he leans back on his hands, face tipped up towards the darkening sky. Bits of purple and red streak across his skin, painting him in the colors of sunset, flowing down his jaw and dipping into his collarbone, shadows dark and sparkling.

Hun's hands still, an unresolved chord hanging in the air. A melody picks at the edge of his brain, knotted and dusty, and he shakes it out until it unravels and splays itself out in front of him. He opens his mouth.

_ "Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you." _

Seunghyub's eyes open and Hun drops his head, stares down at the strings and frets and concentrates on remembering the words and not how he feels suspended in time.

_ "By now, you should've somehow realized what you've got to do." _

His voice picks up a little.  _ "I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now." _

Hun can feel Seunghyub's eyes burning into him as the chorus builds, but his voice stays steady and clear, unbothered now. The notes feel familiar on his fingers. In a split second arrangement, Hun brings the song to a close, lets the finals notes fade into the air. There's a soft, dull pattering and Seunghyub's clapping when Hun looks up, a smile resting on his lips with an aching familiarity as he regards Hun quietly.

Never one to be idle with a guitar in his hands, Hun plucks at the strings, creates a drifting backdrop for them as Seunghyub starts talking, aimless, winding, filling in the space between them with the lilting, deep timbre of his voice. It's completely dark now, the last strip of light having finally drowned beneath the horizon, taking with it any of the lingering warmth in the air,

"Do you remember 'Adrienne'?" Seunghyub asks suddenly, seemingly breaking his own train of thought.

Hun wracks his brain, trying to dredge up the old memory. He plays hesitantly, Seunghyub's voice brushing over the cold as he recites the tabs he remembers. It takes a couple of minutes but they get some semblance of the chord progression pieced together and Hun plays. Seunghyub's voice joins him, thrumming with a nostalgic sort of sadness that grounds Hun in the past.

The cut of the guitar strings against his calloused fingertips stings in the wind but he'd rather bleed than stop playing.

A swirling wind carries off the final ringing note, leaves the rooftop empty and dark. At Seunghyub's silent inquiry, Hun passes the guitar back, wind bitten hands returning to his pockets. It doesn't really helps but Hun curls his fingers into is palms, feels like his skin is made of brittle rice paper as it stretches over his raw knuckles.

Hun scoots closer, turning until his back is pressed up against Seunghyub, their spines lining up like mismatched puzzle pieces. Seunghyub plays, something quiet and reserved that drifts through Hun's ears and sweeps him off into the night sky.

He feels it first, Seunghyub's back bumping against his, shoulders raising as he takes a breath before his impossibly deep voice is emptying out into the air.

_ "City of stars, are you shining just for me?" _

Hun lets his head roll back to rest against Seunghyub's shoulders, the gentle jostling of his movements as he plays making Hun feels like he's been set adrift in space. The song bleeds into a familiar one and he listens, trying to absorb Seunghyub's warmth from every point their bodies touch.

He gives up all pretenses of independence pretty fast. It's not a minute later that Hun is turning once more, his entire side flush with Seunghyub's back, cheek resting against what would be the knob of Seunghyub's neck were it not padded with at least three layers of clothing. He will say that it's not cuddling despite losing any plausible deniability he has when moves again; he tugs out the arm wedged between their bodies, snakes it around Seunghyub's side and crams it in Seunghyub's pocket.

Hun doesn't see Seunghyub's smile so much as he feels it radiating from him loud and clear. It's not cuddling if you're staving off hypothermia, he tells himself as he tightens his arm around Seunghyub's middle.

Seunghyub's back feels like an impassable wall in front of him, shoulders wide, torso long and towering. He's like a summit that Hun will never reach.

Ignoring the cold shock of fabric, Hun buries his nose in the folds of Seunghyub's jacket and listens. Breathes. The frigid air stings at his cheeks

When Seunghyub starts playing Nell’s  _ Day After Day _ , Hun ignores the frozen air pouring into his lungs and sings. A strange sort of warmth builds from inside him when Seunghyub harmonizes with him, matching him instead of the other way around. He tries to tamp it down, hiding behind Seunghyub's back, shielded from view by the cover of night, but it's no use. The feeling is there and he'll always know it's there, brought about by every single little thing Seunghyub does, everything he is, and Hun is helpless, hopeless, and utterly at a loss to stop it.

He can only pray that Seunghyub doesn't notice the tremor in his hand, still buried deep in his pocket.

The music fades from the air, dissipates like the mist somewhere over the tops of skyscrapers and apartment buildings as a strong gust of wind pushes ice through their bones. They finally give in, Seunghyub pushing the pick through the guitar strings to keep it in place, Hun hunching up his shoulders to try and keep his ears warm.

He can feel a throb dimly pulsing inside his head and he wants to go back inside, back to somewhere he doesn't feel like he's hurtling, untethered, out in a black ocean.

Looking up, Hun recalls the words of Seunghyub's song, hear it reverberating through his brain. The sky is dark, the stars hidden through a haze of light pollution. He feels strangely empty at the sight. If he were to speak, he wonders whether his voice would even carry over the rush of wind. As if he could hear the words unspoken anyway, Seunghyub's arm comes up, wrapping around Hun's shoulders as he guides them to the rooftop door, back inside.

Back to warmth and comfort and the life that exists outside of this world they've created on the roof under the black sky with nothing more than music and no stars. And it's okay, Hun decides. Seunghyub's arm is heavy around him, keeping him on the ground as they walk, hips bumping as their strides try to sync up.

-

Inevitability.

That’s what everything boils down to: at the end of the day, something had to give or else everything would collapse, splintering, fractured under its own weight. It’s innocuous at first, unassuming, hidden in the background and inching forward bit by bit until it has overtaken Seunghyub and he’s struggling just to keep afloat. He’s not even sure when it happens, much less how.

But it all leads back to Hun, he knows that much.

Hun is bundled up, a veritable puff ball in all his layers, his winter coat of blankets impressive in number. The heater in his room is on the fritz so he’s taking refuge in Seunghyub’s room, warm air chugging out of the unit above Seunghyub’s bed and falling on Hun like a comforter.

It doesn’t take Seunghyub long to abandon his post at his desk and seek attention from the only other lifeform in the dorm - if a sentient drift of cloth can be considered a lifeform. Hun is impressively still, a quiet danger lurking in the dark folds of the blanket mound. Seunghyub pounces on the bed, feels the springs creak and give way in a manner that suggest he should really get a new mattress before this one is  _ completely _ shot to hell.

Despite Seunghyub’s efforts to worm his way in through loose corners, Hun resolutely refuses entry into the cocoon of heat he’s created for himself, face in shadow, barely visible. This weak struggle goes on for the better part of a minute until Seunghyub basically just forces his way inside.

He sticks his head through the only evident opening, hands gripping the outermost layer, and his face smashes into Hun’s; at the same time as Seunghyub shoves his face into the blankets, Hun tries to pop his head out and in both of their fumbling they meet in the middle, painful and fast. Seunghyub’s forehead smacks against Hun’s, his nose crushed uncomfortably against some part of Hun’s face, teeth biting into his bottom lip as his mouth collides with Hun’s skin. He groans in pain, the back of his head caught in a fold of the blanket as he tries to pull away.

As soon as Seunghyub manages to tug his head free of the blankets, Hun is letting out a shout and tackling him with his mass of blankets. He nearly topples them both off the bed if not for Seunghyub turning them in a jerk of movement before they can crash over the side. Hun is next to him, tangled up in blankets, face pink from overheating in his little oven, bangs hanging messily in his eyes.

Seunghyub surveys him for injuries, runs a tongue over his own lip to check for splits. It hadn’t hurt so much as it had startled him and the aftermath of it makes Seunghyub laugh, the air pulled out of his lungs when he catches the incredulous look Hun is giving him. It only makes him laugh harder and, since laughter is contagious, Hun is soon infected with it himself.

Hun rolls into him, face nudged into the space between Seunghyub’s head and the pillow, laughter hot against Seunghyub’s neck. Seunghyub drops his head, body sapped of energy from laughing too much, muscles weak as he lands cheek to cheek with Hun.

When Hun pulls away, Seunghyub feels the corner of Hun’s mouth drag against his. He stills, Hun pulling in a sharp breath as his eyes slide up to Seunghyub’s, wide and a little scared. (He’s felt Hun’s skin under his lips before, kissed him once on broadcast because he could get away with it, Hun allowing it even with a sneer fixed in place. This is different.)

This is the point where they should play it off, where Seunghyub should laugh and act coy and Hun should shout and hit him.

Instead, Seunghyub feels an awful, unstoppable longing rise up in him as he stares at Hun, their eyes locked, faces far too serious for something that was both an accident and a joke. Hun’s lips part like he’s going to speak but no words come out and Seunghyub’s gaze is drawn to his mouth. He wants to pull is eyes away, wants to tap Hun with his knuckles and turn over and let everything go back to normal before reality is ripped off the rails.

But mostly he wants to finally give in.

With one last look in Hun’s eyes, Seunghyub inches forward, closing the gap little by little until his nose bumps against Hun’s once more, gently this time. Hun’s breath hits his lips, too fast and a little shaky, and Seunghyub swallows, closes his eyes, and pushes his mouth against Hun’s, terrified.

Hun is stock still and for one heart stopping moment, Seunghyub is certain beyond all reason that he’s irrevocably fucked up. And then Hun inhales sharply and tilts his head in and Seunghyub can’t help himself.

He kisses Hun, slow and soft and shallow, a hand coming up to grab at Hun’s blanket ensemble as he tries to ground himself. Hun’s mouth against his is soft, warm, hesitant in its uncertainty but persistent all the same. A dam breaks inside Seunghyub, floods his bones with relief, washes him out and leaves him dizzy. Hun follows him, unsteady and insistent like he’s hanging on for dear life, caught up in rapids. Seunghyub’s fine with drowning like this.

When he pulls away, Hun’s eyes flutter open, glassy and dazed, face flushed.

This time, Seunghyub only hesitates for a moment before he presses one last dry kiss to Hun’s lips. Hun still looks scared and Seunghyub feels it resonate in his veins, but he smiles at Seunghyub, small and true, and Seunghyub feels that too. He answers with a smile of his own and Hun huffs out a breathy laugh, the incredulous air hitting Seunhyub’s lips in puffs.

Their foreheads press together and Seunghyub drinks Hun’s laughter down, his own laughter rumbling up out of him, unstoppable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> camellia: desire/passion  
freesia: new beginning
> 
> suggested listening:  
[N.Flying - 옥탑방 (Rooftop)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpaUh_BGqE0)  
[N.Flying - 딱 하루만 (Just One Day)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qBt-YbDHp7I)
> 
> referenced songs:  
[Oasis - Wonderwall (Hun cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJ1LZuzGygI)  
[The Calling - Adrienne (Seunghyub + Hun cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUhtc87-D7A&feature=youtu.be&t=194)  
[La La Land - City of Stars (Seunghyub cover)](https://youtu.be/hhCxZkFaFBI?t=35)  
[Nell - Day After Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHUmNOT9n-8)


	4. Prunus serrulata, Matthiola incana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for coming along for the ride everyone. i enjoyed the hell out of this ( •⌄• ू )✧♡

For as long as they’ve lived together, Seunghyub hasn’t ever really ventured into Hun’s room. Maybe he prefers to give Hun his space or maybe he’s just lazy and doesn’t want to make the short trip upstairs. Either way, it’s not often that Hun sees Seunghyub stretch out across the length of his bed.

It should be normal, he thinks. Fine.

But that doesn’t stop him from faltering as he walks into his room and sees Seunghyub on his phone, head pressed into Hun’s pillow, legs covered by Hun’s sheets. Hun bats the feelings away, swallows down the surprise and tells himself to stop being weird.

There’s a fluttering sensation in his stomach, swooping and buzzing and trembling in a way that can’t be something so delicate. The bees are still causing chaos inside his chest cavity as he sits down, because surely it can’t be butterflies rattling around in there and making him feel like he’s about to jump out of his own skin.

Seunghyub scoots over to make room for him and it’s only right because it _ is _ Hun’s bed after all, so he feels justified in taking up as much space as he pleases. If that ends up being a tiny sliver of mattress that leaves him pressed up against Seunghyub’s side, then that’s no one’s business but his own.

“Why are you in my room?” Hun asks in lieu of greeting because he may not be bothered by it - may even be happy about it - but it’s enough out of the ordinary to beg the question anyway.

“Your room sounded more comfortable,” Seunghyub replies, voice flat but a cheeky grin resting on his lips.

In addition to the sass, it’s a complete non-answer so Hun headbutts his shoulder, leaves his head resting there because it’s more effort to move and it’s kind of nice, even if Seunghyub’s shoulder is supremely bony. That seems to be incentive enough for Seunghyub to shift and bring his arm up to wrap around Hun.

Well and truly trapped now, Hun accepts his fate gracefully and flops all available limbs over whatever part of Seunghyub they can reach. For his part, Seunghyub seems to welcome this happily, if his snuggling closer is any indication.

Seunghyub slides his phone so it’s hovering in between them now and they watch videos together, Hun lightly knocking his head against Seunghyub’s shoulder. Hun thinks about Seunghyub in his bed and what the means, considers Seunghyub’s face as subtly as he can from the corner of his eye.

Time is ticking along steadily but somehow it feels like everything is rushing past him. Hun doesn’t know what it all means, doesn’t really want to think about how to tackle the future. What he wants it to move forward steadily, with conviction, and keep chasing after their dreams together. With Seunghyub laying by his side, Hun figures they can do that. Anything feels possible.

At some point, Seunghyub dislodges himself and rolls over onto his stomach. Rather than following, Hun barrel rolls onto Seunghyun’s back and lays there, stares at the ceiling and feels Seunghyub breathe beneath him. The light leaking into the room stays longer every night, sticking in the corners and dampening the shadows. It’s not dark yet but it will be soon.

The room cools more as the sun dips and Hun uses it as an excuse to slip to the side and settle against Seunghyub once more. Seunghyub doesn’t seem to mind one bit. 

-

They film a Vlive together, just him and Hun, and having nothing better to do by the end of it, they decide to hang around Seunghyub’s studio. It doesn’t take long for Seunghyub to gravitate toward the keyboard lined up against the wall, hands not wanting to be idle. Hun joins him after a bit, tears himself away from the computer where he’d been playing a game on one of the monitors. He rolls his way over to Seunghyub, his chair bouncing off Seunghyub’s like a bumper car.

Hun slides his hands over the keyboard, knocks Seunghyub off and tinks away at bits and pieces of what he knows how to play, fingers clumsy and unsure. The keys are the same underneath his hands, plastic and easy to depress, but somehow, it being Seunghyub’s keyboard instead of his makes all the difference. Seunghyub nudges his hands out of the way, a pinky tapping at the side of Hun’s hand until he pulls away and Seunghyub can settle his own fingers above the keys.

Seunghyub plays and they talk, easy and sure. The studio is cool, the air wrapping around them like a gentle embrace as Hun’s hands join his on the keys once more. He encourages Hun to play along, guides them through a song until they’re playing together, sat side by side on the bench, surrounded by a patchwork of notes hanging in the air.

-

As growing young men, their appetites are both voracious and never-ending. Hun’s seen how the others get when they’re on diets before a comeback, trying to sneak snacks into the rooms or in poorly concealed bites while stuffed in the back of the car. He’s lucky, he never has to diet, can eat whatever he chooses, whenever he chooses. It may be a point of grumpy contention between them every so often, but Hun is sure to make it up to them when promotion cycles are over and they’re all back to eating as they please.

He’s grilling up some meat when Seunghyub shuffles out of his room and straight into the kitchen. Seunghyub pulls up a chair, nose stuck in the air as he breathes in deeply, the smell of grilled beef permeating the room.

Hweseung is sleeping, otherwise Hun knows he’d be there, begging for food like a hungry little duckling. As such, Hun is content to redirect pieces of meat into his own mouth instead of the plate that he’d set out. He gets fed and avoids having to wash another dish, a win-win situation.

Seunghyub is suspiciously silent and Hun almost expects that he fell asleep at the table when a voice pipes up beside him.

“Hunnie,” he starts and Hun rolls his eyes. He knows what’s coming. “I’m hungry.”

Seunghyub is hovering, pushing into Hun’s space like he doesn’t know how to exist on his own, drawn to Hun’s side like a magnet. Hun feels Seunghyub’s chest press against his shoulder blade, the heat from his body mixing with the heat from the stove and surrounding Hun in an oppressive blanket of overwhelming warmth. A chin settles on his shoulder, a sharp point digging in as Seunghyub rocks his head back and forth pitifully, like his pathetic snuffling will entice Hun to feed him.

It works.

Hun plucks a piece of meat from the pan with his tongs and shoves it in Seunghyub’s direction. Seunghyub opens his mouth like a hungry fish, pulls the meat from the tongs with his teeth and chews it with enthusiasm despite the undoubtedly burning temperature. When Hun passes another piece back for Seunghyub, he has half a mind to dangle it above him tauntingly, to keep it just out of reach and reel him in like the catch of the day. 

They stand there and eat, Hun alternating between directing the food into his own mouth and reaching back to give Seunghyub some. He’s giving Seunghyub more than he’s taking for himself and he almost positive that he’s being sly enough for it to pass under the radar. Hun makes a face when Seunghyub calls him out on it, smug, but a smile breaks through anyway.

Seunghyub’s hands are heavy on Hun’s waist, planting him into the ground, unmovable. Someday maybe, he’ll sprout into something, flowering and beautiful, petals dripping to the ground. But for now, he’s rooted in place, Seunghyub his sunshine and shade, a steady presence at his back.

-

The room is dark, the faint gleam of moonlight falling in through the window. Seunghyub lays motionless, eyes on the ceiling as he listens, Hun quiet next to him. Outside, the murmur of cars fades into white noise, steady, punctuated only by the insects coming out to play under the cover of night. Hun’s arm is pressed against him, warm even above the blankets.

Unable to stand it any longer, Seunghyub turns, arms going around Hun’s middle as he faces him, tucks Hun against him. Hun’s eyes stay closed; Seunghyub knows he’s not asleep. He knows that Hun knows this. Seunghyub waits, watches the way the light casts over Hun’s face and how it rounds out his edges, softens him and makes all his lines go a little fuzzy. Hun lays still, head on the pillow next to Seunghyub.

Eyelids eventually lowering, Seunghyub tugs Hun closer, wraps his arms around him a little tighter. It only takes a moment for Hun to shift, to tilt his head in closer. Their faces are mere centimeters apart.

Seunghyub aches.

Hun’s hair tickles at his forehead, settles on his skin feather-light. He can feel Hun’s breath against his face, brushing over his lips like a secret. Hun is still in his arms, heart thumping steadily against Seunghyub’s chest and pushing the rhythm through his veins until Seunghyub feels like he’s thrumming with it.

He lets impulse take over, closes the gap between them and presses his lips to Hun’s, just a whisper of a kiss. Hun noses in closer, body flush against Seunghyub’s from lips to toes, his hands uncurling from in between them and closing around Seunghyub’s shirt. His mouth falls open, lax and lazy, unhurried.

Every time their lips come apart, Seunghyub can hear the soft smack, can hear Hun breathe in through his nose and press in just a little deeper. Seunghyub slides his hands up Hun’s back, runs the tips of his fingers along the ridges in Hun’s spines and grabs onto his shoulders like an anchor. He feels boneless, floating, wrapped up in a blanket called Hun.

They’re awash in blue, dipped in stardust and moonbeams and they’re drifting, boundless.

Hun brings a hand up, fingers tucked in the curve behind Seunghyub’s ear, his palm pressed against the vein in Seunghyub’s neck, linking up to his heartbeat. Seunghyub breathes him in, tastes him, drinks him up soft and slow as Hun lies in his hands, his kisses sleepy, languid.

Gradually, to the sound of crickets floating in from outside, they still, barely moving, mouths still pressed together. They breathe against each other and Seunghyub can feel every movement of it, Hun’s chest pressing against his, the air hitting his cheeks. Seunghyub doesn’t bother to open his eyes, just tilts his head and nudges his forehead against Hun’s, feels the warmth of their skin mix together in the cool air.

He strokes a thumb along Hun’s side and falls asleep, their legs tangled together, souls knotted up.

-

Hun is quite pleasantly minding his own business when Seunghyub decides - extremely rudely, as a matter of fact - to throw his world into chaos. He’s laying on the couch, feet propped up in Hweseung’s lap, head bolstered on the arm as they both stare at their phones, the TV screen paused to a flickering still image. They’re waiting for Jaehyun to get back so they can continue their movie when the front door opens and Seunghyub calls out, “I’m back”.

“Welcome back,” they chorus absentmindedly.

And Hun is prepared to let the moment slide away completely, forgotten, ready to be lost to the annals of time, but then Seunghyub walks into the room and Hun sees him. Seunghyub walks into the room, hair still damp from a shower, his shorts showing off muscled thighs, his tank revealing far more arm than Hun’s brain has any idea how to process right now. The room is dim but it doesn’t seem to make a difference because Seunghyub’s skin is shining, softly glimmering like the faint twinkle of stars in the sky.

With him, he brings the heady smell of pollen, the scent hanging off him like an overgrown flower. Hun smells it when Seunghyub pokes him out of the way and drops down next to him, bare arm brushing against Hun’s and leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Hun resolutely keeps his eyes on his phone, even if his eyes no longer see what’s on the screen anymore.

Seunghyub spread out on the couch, arms reaching out along the back, legs spread wide and lazy as he and Hweseung strike up a conversation. He drops his head back and Hun fights down an irrational fit of anger because Seunghyub is casual, languid and easy, and Hun’s being eaten up on the inside. He wants to climb into Seunghyub’s lap and lick the flowerdust from his skin, wants to pull Seunghyub off the couch and into his room and get lost in his hands.

The burn in his lungs reminds him, makes him distinctly aware that Hweseung is on the couch with him, that Haehyun will be coming back from the bathroom any minute and _ now is not the time _ . And it’s not fair, it’s incredibly infuriating because they’re not alone and Hun’s getting worked up all on his own, like Seunghyub’s showing off his shoulders and collarbones just to tease him, spread out like he knows that Hun wants to crawl inside his bones and _ can’t _.

Hun quietly wishes to die.

Seunghyub places a hand on the back of Hun’s neck as he talks and Hun walks to jump into a trash compactor. It takes all of his willpower not to grab Seunghyub’s wrist and let him see just how much Hun wants him to do it again, company be damned.

When Jaehyun reenters the room, Seunghyub greets him and promptly announces that he’s going to take a nap, completely unaware of the turmoil he’s causing. Seunghyub leaves and Jaehyun takes his spot on the couch but Hun’s rocketing up, feels like all his joints have seized up, shaky and stiff as he walks away without looking back.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he calls robotically, words cranking out of his mouth like they’re dragged on a conveyor belt. “You guys start without me.”

Hun practically sprints from the room, away from Hweseung’s complaints and Jaehyun’s confusion, and locks himself in the bathroom. He’s keyed up and mortified at his own willingness to forsake any and all courtesy and etiquette for the sake of getting off, even with Jaehyun and Hweseung in the living room, even with Seunghyub’s room next door.

Instead, Hun stands in the bathroom and thinks of every disgusting and decidedly unsexy thing he possibly can until his erection dies out completely and he can pretend everything is behind him.

-

Seunghyub’s room is starting to smell like Hun.

He has the startling realization when he turns his face into his pillow and smells Hun, faint but undeniable, lingering there. It only makes sense, what with how much time Hun has spent infiltrating the tiny, cramped room in favor of, oh, anywhere else in the dorm. (Not that Seunghyub’s complaining, mind you.)

Now is one such time; Hun is curled up on the sheets, hair unbrushed, sleeves of his thin sleep shirt flopping over his hands. He’d woken up somewhere around noon and wandered in Seunghyub’s room, aimless and bored, and Seunghyub had let him stay because of course he had. So now his room smells even more like Hun, warm and spicy and clean. Sharp.

Seunghyub endeavors to keep the smell on him, imbued in his own skin, as he wraps his arms around Hun and drags him down. He likes the way Hun looks, here in his room, coming and going like it’s his own spaces, leaving his scent embedded in Seunghyub’s sheets like he’s marking his territory.

-

It starts with a joke.

Seunghyub clambers his way into Hun’s space, rightfully staking his claim back on his own bed and dodging the hands trying to push him back. They’re fooling around, Seunghyub smothering Hun in praises after Hun mentions a collab he and Jaehyun had scored for 2Idiots. Hun throws a pillow at him, neck warming as Seunghyub avoids his attacks and keeps going, lavishing him with overstated adoration.

Hun slaps a hand over Seunghyub’s mouth, wanting to stop the stream of compliments pouring from Seunghyub’s lips. Seunghyub’s eyes narrow playfully and then Hun feels his tongue sneak out and swipe against his palm. And they’ve done this before, it’s nothing new, but it’s different this time.

The laughter gets caught in Hun’s throat, smile slipping into open surprise. Hun’s face heats and he should pull away, but he keeps his hand over Seunghyub’s mouth, skin burning up. His eyes snap up to Seunghyub’s and he finds him already looking, his stare somewhere between shocked and intense. It feels like the rug has been pulled out from underneath Hun and he watches, out of body, as Seunghyub’s fingers slowly envelop the back of his hand, his lips pressing against Hun’s palm.

Seunghyub’s eyes never stray from his and Hun can almost hear the shift in the air as something drops into place. He lowers their hands and tightens his grip, tugs Hun forward into him. Hun goes easily, punch drunk, and meets him halfway, hands already coming up to grab onto Seunghyub’s shoulders.

This is familiar territory, but it feels new and foreign.

Seunghyub’s hand comes up and cards though Hun’s hair, cups the back of his head. He could keep Hun there if he wanted to, could drag him in and hold him and never let go. But he doesn’t have to; Hun’s fallen into his orbit and doesn’t think he’ll ever be knocked loose.

When Seunghyub moves, breaks away and kisses Hun’s cheek, down his jaw, noses against his neck, Hun feels the gravity of the situation hit him. It sucks the air from his lungs, but he’s okay with anything as long as it means Seunghyub doesn’t pull away. Hun climbs into Seunghyub’s lap, torso pressed against Seunghyub’s chest, arms wrapped around him.

They kiss and Hun presses Seunghyub into the bed, legs bracketing Seunghyub’s hips. Seunghyub starts to pull up Hun’s shirt, gets it over his head and leaves his hair messy, falling into his eyes. Hun flushes, feels the heat run down his chest and pool in his stomach as Seunghyub’s eyes rake down his body.

He fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest and hie himself and leans down instead, away from Seunghyub’s gaze, pulls down Seunghyub’s collar and sucks a bruise into his skin. Seunghyub shifts, hands settling on Hun’s waist, and Hun can feel the press of him through Seunghyub’s pajama pants.

Something about the realization sets off a strike of confidence in him and he pulls up Seunghyub’s shirt, presses his mouth against the hard muscles not so hidden beneath Seunghyub’s skin. When Seunghyub pulls him up, Hun catches a flush of the pink spreading down Seunghyub’s neck and spilling over his chest before his attention is swept away by Seunghyub’s mouth on his, tongue hot in his mouth.

Seunghyub kisses him like he’s starving and Hun’s legs shake. He feels like there’s electricity zipping through him, sparking at the edges like a live wire.

It’s not a sense of urgency, but rather a feeling of imminency that shoots through Hun, steals the breath from his lungs and makes his heat pound in his chest. He feels like he’s starting to unravel at the seams, like one of his strings is caught, pulling, ripping along the edges and spooling him out above Seunghyub. Hun is coming apart underneath Seunghyub’s hands and he doesn’t think he can stop it.

When they break apart, Seunghyub stills.

“Hun-ah…” he starts, not quite meeting Hun’s eyes. The tips of his ears are red and Hun feels his own growing warm at the sight. “I don’t - I don’t really know how…”

He breaks off and gestures vaguely between them, flustered. Hun stares at him for a beat, blinks, and then laughs. Seunghyub looks at him and Hun shakes his head, still laughing.

“Me neither,” he gets out and that sets off Seunghyub too.

Hun’s still smiling as he kisses Seunghyub, drinks down the laughter pouring from Seunghyub’s mouth. Seunghyub’s hands run down his back, sparking wildfires along his spine. One reaches his waist, slips around to the front and passes just above the waistband of Hun’s pants, hovering uncertainly until Hun presses in, kisses him in places of the words he’s too embarrassed to say.

Seunghyub slides his hand inside Hun’s pants, nails brushing over Hun’s skin and Hun shivers, fingers digging into Seunghyub’s shoulders. He gets his hand around Hun, warm and loose, and Hun can’t help himself, control wrenched from him as Seunghyub’s fingers encircle his dick. Hun bucks into Seunghyub’s hand involuntarily, a scratchy noise of pleasure ripped from his throat.

He ducks his head, slightly mortified, but his hips jerk again as Seunghyub strokes him slowly, experimentally. When Seunghyub does it again, just as achingly slow, Hun has the distinct feeling that he’s being teased. His suspicions are confirmed when he looks up and sees the mischievous smile on Seunghyub’s lips, an impish glint in his eyes.

Hun drops his weight in retaliation, settling directly on Seunghyub’s dick. He smirks, but victory is short lived as Seunghyub’s fingers tighten around him and Hun groans, head rolling back. He can't stop himself, hands braced against Seunghyub's shoulders as he thrusts into the warm circle of Seunghyub's hand. Instinct doesn’t stop the embarrassment, ears hot, neck burning, as all of Seunghyub's attention is focused on him and the noises he keeps trying to swallow down. Seunghyub twists his wrist and Hun jerks, elbows buckling a little.

He's pulled down, a big hand settled on the back of his neck, and then Seunghyub's lips are back on his, insistent and burning straight through Hun. The room used to be pleasantly cool but now Hun feels like he's being pumped through with molten iron. Beneath him, Seunghyub lays like a concentrated bit of sun, scorching. Blazing.

There's something building in Hun, coiled tight low in his stomach.

"Wait," he chokes out, getting a hand around Seunghyub's wrist in a grip that's possibly more vice-like than he intends.

Seunghyub stills immediately, like he's done something wrong and Hun doesn't have the presence of mind to tell him that he's about three more strokes from coming and he hasn't even gotten to touch Seunghyub yet.

Instead, Hun moves, tries to bend so that he can slip his hand in to touch Seunghyub too. But the angle makes it too difficult.

"I can't get you like this," he says, panting a little.

Seunghyub pulls his hand away and Hun shivers at the brush of skin. And then Seunghyub's hands are settling on Hun's hips and he's pulling Hun down against him.

The first push of Seunghyub's hips has him dizzy.

This is the part where Hun should feel like crawling out of his own skin but he can't find it in him to care when he drops down, elbows digging into the mattress, pressed flush against Seunghyub from chest to hips. Seunghyub is hard, aching against Hun, and Hun ruts against him, just a small, fast push that has Seunghyub's fingers tightening on his skin.

Seunghyub rolls them over and he's braced above Hun, stares down at him in something that almost looks like drunk wonder before his hips snap forward against Hun's in a way that has Hun scrambling to get his hands on something to keep him down.

Hun doesn't think he's going to last very long like this. Their clothes are in the way, bunched up and messy and disgustingly hot, but there's no way to stop now. Seunghyub leans down, kisses Hun and sucks his tongue into his mouth, sharp and insistent. His hips never stop moving and Hun is thrown into a rhythm that's too much for him to keep up.

Seunghyub's hands are back on him then, sliding up his sides, so big and gentle and purposeful, and Hun has to shut his eyes, head thrown back against the pillow, just so he doesn't see the way Seunghyub's eyes follow their trail. Hun doesn't think he can stand to watch the way Seunghyub's face looks as he pants above him; it's going to ruin him for life, imprinted on his brain for the rest of eternity. He fists a hand in the back of Seunghyub's shirt and hangs on.

It doesn't take very long at all.

Seunghyub rolls deep against him and Hun's legs shake before he's coming in his pants, the heat trapped between them. 

"Hyung," he groans, voice coming out thick and raspy.

And it's like a switch flips in Seunghyub at that because he's pushing against Hun then, fast and hard, insistent, and it's almost too much to take. His head drops and his mouth is back on Hun's again. A few more thrusts with Hun shakily trying to meet him in the middle, and Seunghyub tenses, hips stuttering in a telltale way that Hun knows he'll be seeing every time he shuts his eyes.

Unsteadily, Seunghyub rolls to the side, lays beside Hun as they try to catch their breath. Hun listens, hears the way Seunghyub's breath hitches, the pause just before he swallows and the rough way the air comes out of him. If he turns just a bit, he can see the harsh rise and fall of Seunghyub's chest, the flush on his face. He's just as affected as Hun is and Hun feels hazy with that knowledge.

Seunghyub turns and catches his eye and Hun stares back at him. A moment passes between them and something in the air shifts and suddenly they're both laughing. Seunghyub's face is bright, smile radiant and brilliant, and Hun punches his chest lightly, leaning towards him to hang on as his body shakes with laughter. Seunghyub's laughter rings in his ears and Hun lets it carry him away.

-

Hun isn't exactly what anyone would call a "good dancer". He tries - he certainly tries very hard - but his joints are stiff and despite his sense of rhythm, he can't seem to get his limbs to cooperate on beat. Seunghyub finds this charming in an exasperating sort of way but, in order to spare Hun's feelings, he won't tell him that.

Still, they come into contact with dancing a lot for people who play instruments. As such, it's not a bad idea every once in a while to brush up on those skills even if they're not expected to, you know, actually be good at any of it, being a band and all. (Jaehyun is the exception but he's an anomaly and none of them should be held to his level.) That's not to say that they're all completely hopeless; Jaehyun takes dance classes for fun and Hweseung had his stint with the proper idol life before he joined them. Once upon a time, Seunghyub used to do competitive dance.

It's amazing how much he remembers despite not keeping up with the practice.

Seunghyub’s studio is cool, the AC running lightly even though it doesn't strictly need to be on. It chugs quietly in the background, a steady stream of background noise amidst the playlist Seunghyub has cycling through on his computer after an impromptu Vlive. It shuffles into some of his dance music and Hun, in one of his playful moods that seem to be increasingly more common, starts dancing around with an invisible partner. It's quite incorrect.

He doesn't seem to care in the slightest but ends up teasing Seunghyub into teaching him through a combination of increasingly wrong movements and his silly beckoning.

Seunghyub takes it upon himself to correct him, stepping in smoothly and grasping Hun's hand, his waist, pulls Hun in maybe just a smidgen closer than is strictly necessary or technically correct. He walks Hun through the steps of a Foxtrot, quite literally, voice calm and steady as he directs Hun to step this way, hold his arm up here.

Hun stumbles over his own feet, steps all over Seunghyub's toes, turns the wrong way immediately after Seunghyub shows him how to do it right. He's quite terrible and Seunghyub has never been in so deep.

It's such a silly little thing but it still makes his heart race a little faster, even after everything, when Hun looks up at him and smiles, wide and bright. His eyes crinkle up and Seunghyub holds his hand a little tighter.

The music changes and the song is some soft r&b one and Seunghyub should really pull away and switch it to something more appropriate but he stays right where he is, Hun's hand warm and light on his shoulder, bodies close as they dance through a simple step.

Hun is, very decidedly, _ not _ a dancer. But Seunghyub still thinks he's the perfect partner.

-

It’s nothing in particular that wakes Hun up. Maybe there is a noise outside that faded away, maybe it’s the light falling across his eyes like a sheer blindfold. Or maybe it’s the way his arm is trapped beneath Seunghyub, asleep and tingling with a muted sort of numbness that promises pins and needles in the near future. Whatever it is, Hun cracks his eyes open first, blinks blearly into the sunny room until his vision clears.

He tips his head to the side and looks at the still sleeping figure lying beside him.

Golden light washes over the bed, staining Seunghyub’s skin. His hair is alight with it, shining like a halo around his head, nestled into the pillow and glowing like some sort of god. Seunghyub’s arms border his head, framing it like he’s some sort of dancer, cheek resting against his bicep gently. His mouth is soft, lips just barely parted. It makes Hun want to lean over and taste him.

Contrarily, Hun pulls his dead arm out from underneath Seunghyub, the movement waking him up. Seunghyub pulls in a breath through his nose, deep, and tips his head back in a stretch, arms coming down to wrap around Hun and tug him into his chest. Hun finds his nose smushed into Seunghyub’s sternum and pulls back until he can settle more comfortably, ear placed right above Seunghyub’s heart.

There’s someone in the kitchen and the sound of clattering pans and sizzling slips in underneath the doors, bringing with it the smell of cooking food. A soft buzzing comes from Seunghyub’s desk, his phone vibrating with an alert that goes unanswered.

The shade is open, the light pouring in, and they’re stretched out in a sun spot, lazy and comfortable. Columns of dust dance in the sunlight, glittering and mystical and otherworldly.

Hun slips his legs under the sheet and presses a cold foot against Seunghyub’s ankle, snickering when Seunghyub jolts and traps Hun’s legs in between his. Seunghyub’s hand cards through Hun’s hair, tickles at the back of his neck and sweeps across the shell of his ear. Hun toys with the hem of Seunghyub’s shirt, fingers twisted up in the fabric.

They should get up soon but they don’t have to just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cherry blossom: first love  
hoary stock: forever beautiful
> 
> suggested listening:  
[N.Flying - Spring Memories (봄이 부시게)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MK0mQUIktWU)  
[N.Flying - Anyway](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7JNNDzaue8)
> 
> to round this all out i want to give a big shout out and thank you to [the_queenmaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_queenmaker/pseuds/the_queenmaker) for the endless encouragement, hyping, and patience. you got me out of my self-imposed freakout(s). thank you for convincing me to extend this past just chapter one and develop it into this mini monster. i actually couldn't have done it without you babe ♡  
(also y'all she beta'd this and she doesn't even go here????? what an absolute champ)


End file.
